Sliding Doors
by Joanna Jacobs
Summary: It seems that being married to King Robert Baratheon drove women to the same bitterness -and into the arms of the same man. AU after the Rebellion where Robert marries his cousin, Helaena Estermont, instead of Cersei.
1. Prologue

**_"An unnamed female cousin, whose father and husband died during the Siege of Storm's End. She was of an age with her cousin Robert, with whom she would play when they were both still very young."_**

 **The Kingdom needed a Queen, and the Crown needed someone they could trust. So instead of rewarding Tywin Lannister for his neutrality during the rebellion, Robert's cousin is summoned from Estermont to King's Landing.**

* * *

The doors before me opened to reveal the throne room of the Red Keep. A holy and famed room -its doors swung just for me. My gaze stayed level and even, and in the pinnacle of my eye line sat a man, a thunderous Lord -now King, in a throne forged of steel and blood.

When I knew him he was a boy; we were but children, but I was still old enough to remember those eyes of the brightest blue. And yet, those eyes that I had held in memory as filled with laughter; always so jovial, were now icy and proud. Those were two words I never thought I would use to describe Robert, my King now.

Regardless of the ghosted eyes that haunted me as I made my way forward alone, my feet did not fail me and neither did my eyes. I spotted, other than the King whose own eyes would not leave me, two other men standing by his side and one guard in a clean white cloak standing at the foot of the stairs that led to the throne. The man standing to the King's right was far older than the King himself, with kind pale eyes and a prominent pin on his breast, and I registered that he must be Jon Arryn -not just because I had heard that it was he who was made Hand of the King but also by the way he loomed protectively around the King with all the concern a father usually held. I tried not to think of my own father as I watched. The other man stood to the King's left, tall and strong but so solemn, and the black he wore matched the King's own. _They are all still in mourning_.

Except I wasn't. I wasn't allowed to be. All my dresses have either been sown up or thrown away, and I now wore a rich gown of blue -far richer than I had ever been used to wearing, instead of the black I wore but a moon ago. When my brother received the letter of summons his eyes had hovered dangerously over the tear at the bottom of my dress, like the very reminder than I had had a husband was treason of the highest order. He knew. But it wasn't just my husband that I mourned. It was for our father, our men, the widows left in their wake, and for all the children that had to suffer and starve.

I had to shake my thoughts away from such darkness. I was wearing a blue dress. I was wearing my mother's jewels. I was standing before the King.

I cast my eyes down as I gave a low courtesy and when I had lifted my eyes I knew that I had worn my mask well.

"Cousin Helaena," Robert announced, "I am pleased to see you gracing our court." He didn't get up for me and I hadn't expected him to.

"I am pleased to be here, your Grace." I resisted the urge to join my hands together and pick nervously at the skin that still remained there and instead chose to focus on making sure my voice escaped me unaffected as well as fight the nervous blush I could feel rise up my chest.

"This is my Hand, Lord Arryn." He introduced, motioning to the elder man in the process. So I had been right.

The elder man made his way down the steps with his chest still puffed out in pride but a softer countenance to his face. I gave him a shallow curtsy before he had gotten too close and he took my hand gently and impressed it with a light kiss.

"My Lady, it is very good to see you at court." He repeated much of the same words, and probably the same sentiments, that Robert had done not moments ago, but his words had an undeniable warmth to them that I could only recognise as pitty of some sort. His eyes bore into mine as if to say, _I know this hard for you_. I would give him nothing to pity, and I smiled brightly at him to ward off anymore of his doubts.

"It is very good to be here, my Lord Hand." He moved away from me after giving me a nod but did not return back up to where the King sat, instead choosing to stand next to the silent Kingsguard by the stairs in between the King and I.

"This is Lord Stark of Winterfell, and my Warden of the North." Robert's voice now held a slight tinge of familiarity to the one I had known when he introduced the Lord of Winterfell.

I knew of their friendship, of course, from all the talk of the rebellion. But also from the last time I had seen Robert when him and his family had come to Estermont, he was only recently fostered at the Vale and yet all his talk and all his stories were of the Northern boy who rarely smiled but always made him laugh.

The man in question made his way to me in much the same fashion that Lord Arryn had, his movements betraying nothing. But his eyes, those eyes of the deepest and saddest grey bore directly into my own when he halfheartedly kissed my hand and I felt a chill rush through me at how sad a man can be; how much you have to love someone to be so broken. But it wasn't just _her_ that he -or they, had lost. It was his father and brother as well, burned in this very room if the rumors were to be believed.

Everything about him -his eyes, his brow, his skin, they all looked out of place in a place like this, and I didn't know which one of us to feel the most sorry for. It was now _I_ who was giving him the look I had resented Lord Arryn giving to me, _I know this is hard for you_.

He had mumbled a few words and I in return but that was all that our exchange was limited to. It was a distraction, an appetiser to the main event. Everyone standing in that room knew why I was here and why Robert was looking at me like he was about to consume a meal he was being forced to eat.

"I am sorry for your loss, Lady Helaena. But the war is over, and the world must go on." _Losses, not loss_.

"As I am sorry for yours, as well, your Grace." He grimaced at the return of condolence and the other men in the room only shuffled awkwardly at the mention of _loss_ like they were trying to avoid something. I had the impression that it was not an easy to subject to broach with the King. I also knew Robert had a temper befitting a Sea God, so it was not easy to discern a connection between the two.

"You are family. You are the blood of my mother, and your family has always been loyal to mine."

"I remember, your grace." I will aways remember, I could never forget.

"Then will you be my Queen?" He winced as he said it, but I knew that it was the reason I was there, so there was no need to beat around the bush any longer. The moment I had been called to court after hearing of Lyanna Stark's death, I knew what it had all been for. It was not a question, though. Robert, especially a King, could not be refused. I didn't want to fight it, I was tired of the fighting.

But still, something inside me hesitated gravely even when it might have been dangerous to do so. I saw a path before me, lined with the sapphire of my cousin's eyes and yet the tides of my thoughts pulled me back before I could walk into it; I didn't know whether it was perhaps any affection I might have had for my fallen husband, the love Robert still held for his fallen betrothed or the blood that still lined the city -or the heads that rot on the spikes at its gates. All I knew was that it was still so soon.

"I am honoured, your Grace, that you think me fit of such a role. And I would like nothing more than to be a wife to a man as brave as you, but.." Everyone in attendance held their breath for my next words, shocked at the notion that it could be anything other than "Of course, your Grace.". In that moment I was glad that my presentation had been left to be a more private affair; which was rare enough as it is in King's Landing.

"I can not help but feel as though this is all a little too soon."

"Are you refusing the order of your King?" He said it almost like he _wanted_ me to refuse him. Like he was excited at the prospect of reprimanding me, punishing me for my insolence -and best of all, not having to actually marry me.

"Of course not, your grace." _A king is not to be refused,_ "I just believe that our wounds -all of our wounds, are still so fresh. This war...it has cost all of us a great deal, and I fear no one has come out of it unscathed. We, as well as the Kingdom, need time to heal, your Grace." Before I could watch Robert gather his breath to react in a way I was most certain would not have been favourable to my still delicate disposition the Lord of the Vale made his way to my side and addressed me with his eyes still half on the King.

"You are very right my Lady. We have all bled. However, through our grief we must persevere. The Kingdom needs stability. The people need to see their new King and the crown needs an heir, and that can not be done without his Queen. We beseech you to help us do right by the Kingdom, my Lady."

What right had they done the Kingdom? What had Robert done but send thousands of young men to their deaths, her father and husband and almost her brother included? The only good that came out of this war was the Mad King's end -even then, it had been Ser Jaime who had done the deed. Kingslayer, as they've dubbed him -but his betrayal had saved the city while Tywin Lannister's show of allegiance killed the innocents that lay in the crossfire, so why was it Tywin that was rewarded? Why were any of them?

But wasn't I being rewarded as well? Any maiden in the land would only dream of this, of this moment. A King, as fine and as handsome as they tell you in the bards, asking you to be his wife -his Queen. But the man that had fought so hard for his Lady was now plagued by a ghost; I could see that as plain as ever even though I had surely become a stranger to him by now. _I am your mother's blood._ That much was true, I was _his_ blood. She was strength and salt, she was of the sea. I had her and my father's eyes and hair -how fitting must it have been for another Baratheon to marry another Estermont in such quick succession? Robert's own father's hair and eyes had won out over his mother's, would his do the same to mine, I wonder?

"I will do my duty, and will be honoured by it my Lord Hand," I turned back to face the King, my King, once again, "your Grace."


	2. Befitting of a Queen

Not a week after taking my first steps in to King's Landing were Robert and I married.

 _"I can not help but feel this is all a little too soon."_ I had said -how foolish of me to think that the world would stop for my or anyone's feelings. The Kingdom doesn't care about grieving or doubts -especially mine. The Kingdom wanted a big wedding, and that is exactly it they got.

I was examined and tested invasively by Maester Pycelle and several others who reported happily back to Robert and his council that I was neither pregnant nor barren. It had been close to a year since my wedding night and since I last saw my husband, and I had already confirmed to them that I had my moon's blood consistently since then but of course -this was the King. "We just need to be sure." They had all said, and I tried to pretend like it didn't make me sick every time that foul old man had his head searching under my skirts. But it was just another thing I had had to endure until the wedding.

It wasn't a solemn or quiet affair as I had hoped, seeing as it was indeed my second wedding I was not even ten and seven years old and already married twice. Lord Arryn had explained, even though he didn't owe me an explanation, that the people wanted something to celebrate -and how could they celebrate if we at least did not pretend to?

Either way, I had no part in the preparations -no one asked me about what I would have liked. Not even my dress or my jewels were up to me. I had simply woken one morning to a seamstress rushing to take my measurements and all the while reassuring me that I would look beautiful in gold. At least Robert had come to me himself to give me the jewels, which was a surprise in itself to say the least. I had rarely seen him after our first meeting, and he did not engage me in any conversation unless he saw me at dinner and there would surely be talk if the King himself did not approach his betrothed -after all, he must have thought there was no point in courting me now, I had already agreed. But he surprised me with the chain he presented to me. He still looked like he regretted it, like it was too precious of a thing to be placed around my neck, but the deep eye of obsidian in the pendant drew me in deep; I had seen it before.

"It was my mother's" He had confirmed my suspicions, trying not to sound bitter.

"You are too kind, cousin." I still felt pride when he wrapped it around my neck from behind me. The fact that my aunt had worn it before me was enough to push away all thoughts on being someone's last resort, and I hoped that perhaps some of the strength I had always seen in her would help carry me through. _Please, Aunt Cassana, help me marry your son._

On the day of my wedding -my second wedding, an open carriage pulled me from the Red Keep all the way to the Sept of Baelor through the entire city, weaving me through every little ally -making sure I was seen by everyone. When I arrived at the stony steps of the heady structure the grand doors were already open and my brother Andrew stood outside waiting for me expectantly. I clutched at his green sleeve when I reached him and his hand clasped over mine in turn. I tried to gulp down the lump forming in my throat -there were two people present at my last wedding who could never be present now. Andrew was the last bit of Estermont, of a me that would not be marked in ownership by the people or their king, that I had left. He would sail back to Estermont soon enough, and I would be left here with a husband I had only known long ago.

"You look beautiful." He had said, and I did not doubt it for a moment. But it seemed that the Gods would not have me feel happy at either of my weddings -not truly.

My betrothed didn't bother to look back at me once I had made my entrance into the Sept on the arm of my brother even when everyone else did. I must have truly been a sight to invoke such stares from a crowd I couldn't recognise. That was, until my eyes settled on those standing at Robert's side while mine was empty. To Robert's side stood another man around the same age as I whose face was still lined with a frown - _Stannis,_ he was hard to forget. Next to them stood a boy who had been naught but a babe the last time I had laid eyes on him at his own parents' funeral - _it must be Renly_. They all had the same dark hair and blue eyes -though Stannis's was not as thick as the back of Robert's head in clear view.

Once I had arrived in front of the High Septon Robert had finally deigned it necessary to look at me - _into_ me. The vows left me like a well-rehearsed song, their meaning lost over me as I tried to understand what I was looking at when I looked at my cousin. He was dressed in black once more with only seams of gold lining his doublet disguising the mourning that would not leave him -who was he trying to fool? He stood a full head taller than me, his hands were almost twice the size of mine I noticed as mine lay dutifully in them. They felt foreign even though I had touched them before, but I had not touched them as his betrothed -and now I was touching them as his wife. I was married to the King of the Seven Kingdoms, and both of us let out a small smile the crown so desperately wished to see.

The wedding feast proved to be better than the actual wedding itself.

"You look beautiful." Was all Robert had said to me as we made our way to the feast, and I blushed not as a shy new wife but as an unsure widow.

High Lords presented their gifts and we all drank merrily -everyone else drank to our start, and I drank to the fact that I had it in me to get it over with. Apart from the odd jabs, Robert and I merely sat there taking turns filling our goblets and indulged in the occasional cheers. When time came for our first dance, which neither one of us could refuse, Robert's large hand encased mine once more and he led me out onto the floor. His hands drew me in roughly by my waist and even through his drunken glaze I felt that for the first time that he could truly see me as I was.

"You really do look beautiful." He repeated.

I knew he was trying, but my cheeks flamed too harshly with redness for me to even respond. Instead I tightened my grip on his hand hoping that he could at least feel it -feel _me_.

After the coincidentally short song was over I had no chance to follow Robert back up to the dais before I felt a drumming of fingers on my back. I spun around, almost indignant at whose touch had suddenly invaded the place my husband had only just touched, but did not find anyone directly in front of me. I looked down to find little Renly, now my brother in law, smiling dearly up at me like I held all the promise in the world. Yet another person I could not let down, it seems.

"May I have this dance?" He was just a boy of six, but he still spoke like every bit of the Lord I was sure he would be. Anyways, it was far beyond me to refuse a child -never mind one was handsome as he.

"Of course you may, little cousin."

"Brother now! You're my sister!"

We danced, I, the King's new wife, with my knees slightly crouched to accommodate the little Lord's height -it was no matter, I was sure he would grow to be justas big and strong as his eldest brother. A boy like him would thrive at court, surely. We swung about ungraciously and I finally found myself laughing freely for the first time since war had marred what I came to know of the world. It all finally seemed perfect, my wedding day -even Robert was hollering at the sight of us.

"Look at little Renly go!"

"He's got that Baratheon charm already!"

"Don't take up all her dances boy, she's _my_ wife!" He bellowed out in laughter and I didn't even mind, the alcohol was finally taking its effect.

After the song ended Renly was regretfully shipped off to his chambers by stern Stannis himself who bid me good night kindly enough -it was, after all, my wedding day.

I stood foolishly in the midst of the floor for a moment; forgetting momentarily that my place was up with Robert, but Lord Arryn had come to my rescue before I could make my retreat. The King's yet uncrowned Queen made me a very popular woman to dance with, it seems.

He was a man i'm sure none could call insincere for his eyes were too telling to be duplicitous. Although, born and bred on the isle of Estermont, one could not say that I had been particularly exposed to court intrigue and politics. But still, being a highborn lady meant that I had to train my faces and be ready to change them whenever the situation required it -Jon Arryn only had one face and it was looking down upon me in a soft smile. The night was still awash was alcohol, but everyone was beginning to grow weary in the ensuing darkness.

"Do not be so hard on Robert, he's a good man." His words cut through whatever haze had been flirting through my mind and I found myself waking despite the blanket of sleep that had seemed to begin covering the hall.

"I wasn't planning on doing so, Lord Arryn."

"Of course, I hadn't meant that. But like you've said, we've all lost very much. It'll take time." Everyone kept reminding me of my own words, however, they didn't seem to truly grasp that I had lost something too. Loss only revolved around those that mattered -and as the King's bride it seemed my loss was inconsequential to everyone around him. I had to give Robert time even though he had not extended that courtesy to me.

He escorted me gracefully back to my seat when our dance, and my short career as a dancer, came to an end. I was so exhausted by the entire day that, like Robert, I didn't even care to sit like I had a crown waiting for me. Instead, I leant back into my seat, pulling my head back to wonder at the high ceilings. I wondered what we looked like from up there, is that how the Gods saw us?

I didn't get an answer to my question soon enough since the bedding ceremony was quickly announced.

I had no fear of it like I did the first time, I was no maid. There were no jitters, cold feet or worries over the pain -I had done it once before, i'll do it again. A quick succession of High Lords began making their way to me with alcohol and lust in their eyes and before I could move my hands to shield myself a cloak of white appeared before me, and from the back of that golden head, I knew exactly who it was. He didn't move further, but the Lords suddenly had a more careful look to their eyes and did not approach me as eagerly as they were just about to. They peeled off my gown with care and made sure not to rip it, and Jaime Lannister finally turned around in order to continue watch me get undressed by strange men. It seemed that Jaime Lannister was my protector for the night -and I was willing to bet anything in the Seven Kingdoms that it wasn't what he thought he'd be doing when he was raised to the Kingsguard. That and killing the King he was sworn to serve, the same king that cooked whomever he deemed a traitor. He looked just like me, still so young and yet resigned. _This is it, this is all we are. A woman in a shift and a knight in an empty white cloak._

With the knight mainly leading the way to the bedroom I would be staying in for the night I almost laughed once more that night at the realisation of how silly we must have looked -how silly _I_ must look to everyone. Who were we trying to fool? I'm half-sprinting to get bedded by a man who has not forgotten the last woman he loved. Everyone in that hall knew it, and for all I knew they probably pitied me for it. Maybe I wasn't the only one who wore my mask well.

I entered the sudden room in heat, and after quickly scanning the room the knight nodded to me, almost apologetically, and left the room closing the door behind him. Waiting in an empty room for Robert was something I had a feeling i'd need to get used to.

When Robert finally came he was in nothing but his breeches, and I was suddenly newly aware of the thin shift that laced over my body. He walked over to me and I held my face in his hands, those same eyes I still couldn't get used to pierced through me however drunk he might have been. Our eyes were not the same colour -not exactly, and his hair was so thick and black that it almost looked wet while mine was a paler chestnut. He was all Baratheon, and I was all Estermont, but it still felt like I was looking into a mirror. He may have looked like his father but he was still half me -and he never denied that. In many ways, Robert was all I had left. At least now he was. He was blood and _home_ now, and I have no other family than the one we are due to make together.

He kissed me deeper than he had in the Sept when I was his wife for all of one second. He wrapped his arms around me, encasing me under more warmth than the room already provided, and his mouth continued to move slowly against mine. It was then that I registered how his beard tickled my chin, and I wondered what happened to my beautiful golden dress. I was being kissed by a King and all I could think about was who was cleaning up my mess. I had to try, I had to try.

When Robert lay me down on the bed I had quickly checked my senses and realised that my heart was not beating out of my ribcage -which I found odd. It had thumped almost audibly on my first wedding night, but it was out of fear rather than anticipation. Robert was leagues more handsome, more kingly than my perished Lord husband, so why were my vitals not spiking at the implication of our coupling? I was no maid, and so I shouldn't feel any of the pain that had hindered my pleasure like last time, why was I not excited? Why did I feel so numb?

It still hurt when he pushed into me and he hissed at the closeness as if this was the first time he had ever felt a woman around him -we both knew it was not. His eyes stayed closed and he kept his mouth nipping at my neck and his large hands engulfing the curve of my breast as he moved through me inch by inch. I didn't dare move, I couldn't, I only watched with open eyes at the man taking his pleasure from me without even looking at me -without even knowing who I was. His pace picked up and it was familiar enough for me to know that his end was near and I could escape the stifling heat of being beneath him. As his spilled his seed inside me he pushed himself even closer to my neck and whispered the same name no one in court had dared to utter in his presence.

"Lyanna."

I had known something like that would happen; I was not naive -especially to the love of a man who started a war for his beloved. I had sort of braced myself for it, and insisted that it would not feel like anything -perhaps that was why Robert had decided not to marry a maiden, for fear of shattering a hopeful heart. But still, it felt rancid against my ear, to hear her name so clear and unholy against my skin while he spilled inside me -while I became his wife in no way either he or the Gods could attest. It suffocated me, that singular name, and suddenly the room was darker than I had recalled. He slept on top of me that night, a constant reminder of the constriction I had felt at something that shouldn't even be betrayal. I wasn't competing with a dead woman. There was no competition at all.

He had no desire for me in our first days, nor I for him. I was a duty, and everyone knew that even though Robert was King he never had much of a mind for duty. Even though he was handsome and strong, I could not bear to look at him when he faced me in the bedchamber. His eyes were always washed with alcohol and the need to forget; to unsee what he saw before him. He would always close his eyes when he entered me, and he was always rough and uncaring when he took me.

It was hard to feel anything at all with him, perhaps he had died with his beloved. It felt like sleeping next to a corpse when we were alone -but in court and in the public it was I who looked and felt dead. People bowed to me now, their eyes lingered over me and their whispers about me could be heard from every inch of the castle -is that what being a Queen meant? I found myself living not for the love of my husband but for the chance to live up to expectations. Robert was made to fight, and Robert and I are made of much of the same stuff. Perhaps I am born for nothing but the fight either.


	3. Uncrossed

It seemed that Tywin Lannister, the new master of coin, would see his only daughter wed to a Baratheon after all -even if it were not the King. No, that was my pleasure to have entirely apparently.

Were it not for a lessened crowd I would have thought that it was a grander wedding than my own -I guess that was to be expected from the Lannisters. One could scarce think it was a Baratheon wedding at all what with the overflowing silks and decors of elaborate gold and blood red. Cersei Lannister looked just as beautiful as her father had boasted about during the negotiations, even though from the look of Stannis it didn't seem like something that would matter to him, I knew Stannis well enough by now that though he idolised Robert in some way for doing everything a step before him and a league better -it could not be said that he valued the same thing as his brother.

Robert and Renly stood to Stannis's side whilst I stood by Cersei's -a woman I had never met but who was to be a sister to me. To my far right stood Jaime Lannister, the bride's brother, who, as I could tell, was trying almost convincingly hard to keep his expression bored and impassive as the ceremony progressed. I almost felt offended for Stannis as I unknowingly watched Jaime Lannister bear witness to the wedding -was he not a worthy enough match in the knight's eyes? _I'm sorry your sister is not the Queen, Ser._

I was Queen, I had been wedded and bedded and crowned by the King, but I felt small standing next to the lioness of rich golden tendrils and eyes that glowed so green they could be sold for fortunes. Robert's eyes lingered with a wolfish smirk, Renly watched in awe, her brother did not move his gaze from her, all was looking at the bride like she was the embodiment of sunshine except for the man who would have her.

Her dress trailed after her as they walked out of the Sept together and I found my own eyes unable to leave the deep crimson that almost stained the floor. My eyes were lost in the folds even as Robert took my arm into his and we trailed behind them. If I looked hard enough I could see the blood that I had been told stained those Lannister robes when they were presented containing the corpses of the fallen innocents. It was a beautiful dress, intricate and emblazoned with the pride of that house, but I could not unsee the very thread it was made of, the very reason it hung so proudly to the Lady's figure -a test of allegiance passed only by the murders my own husband was happy not to commit himself.

I sometimes wonder, if Tywin Lannister had not done so, would anyone else have?

After the wedding Stannis and his new wife sailed to Dragonstone; the ancient seat of the crown's heir. It was a harsh laugh in my face every time I heard it even though Robert and I had barely been married a moon's turn. Somehow when you are made Queen everyone suddenly expects you to have thrice the natural fertility rate than other mere mortals, and it is hard enough disappointing your husband's council without them reminding you that you were in fact disappointing the realm in its entirety. I was a Queen, held in the highest regard in title to all that came across me, so why was I being torn apart with such indignity? It was humiliating, having everyone know your secrets or what you did with your husband, even my own moon's blood was not privy to myself and Maester Pycelle had a foul look on his face when he came to check on me himself as if to say, "The council will not be pleased to hear about this". I was now chained to the shackles of being bred like a horse. But Dragonstone did not just remind me of my failings as a still early wife and Queen, it reminded me that my child would be King one day -and a prince before that. It hadn't dawned on me in the flurry of a week that had went by when I was due to marry Robert, but settled into me roughly as I watched that boat sail off to Dragonstone, and a part of me hoped that it would always belong to Stannis, Prince of Dragonstone now, and his wife could be Queen just as I knew she wanted, if it meant that my child would not have to bear the burden of a Kingdom.

Why did it have to be me, anyway? Cersei Lannister was obviously on the table, why couldn't I have been married to Stannis and Robert to Cersei?

When I had dared imply my question to the only other adult I could bring myself to speak to, Jon Arryn had told me,

"The King trusts his own blood more than he could any other, your Grace." Any other but the Starks, of course.

It was not a question I asked out of preference for Stannis, but just out of confusion as to why I, a highborn lady, yes -but not as highborn as my alternate, was chosen over any other to be Queen.

Perhaps it was because to Robert two Lannisters at court was more than enough. One of the only things Robert bothered expressing to me was his distaste for the blonde hair of Lord Tywin Lannister -even though it was already growing white with old age, and his son Jaime. _Kingslayer_ he and everyone else called him now, and I could never understand why they said it with such disdain. He had done for them exactly what they had marched on King's Landing to do -why was he dishonest when they themselves had claimed righteousness to their cause? I found it cruel that he would be kept on only to be reminded he was a traitor at every turn, but Robert had insisted upon it even in the face of his best friend.

But Jaime Lannister did not need my pity, nor did he want anything from anyone else. I find it hard to imagine what it must have been like growing up with such a gallant wish to be famed for his glory and strength, what must it be like for him now that it was all reduced to standing guard while the King drank, hunted and whored or when the Queen wanted to take her walks in solitude? What could a bird do if its very wings were clipped?

Ser Jaime never spoke to me, no one ever did. They just followed me around as assigned. Some even stood outside my doors and listened when my husband grunted and groaned into me. Like I said, there is very little dignity in being a Queen. I was assigned ladies in waiting that I knew I would be too tired to even look at, even though my husband obviously did not feel the same. They would ask me how I liked my hair and I would tell them -but beyond that I could never bring myself to open up to anyone. There was no dignity in being a Queen when the only person you could trust was no person at all -but the wind that stroked the shoreline as you whispered your fears from your window. There was no dignity when everyone in court looked at you like you were not, and would never be, enough as your husband flirted with every available maiden. There was no dignity, not as a Queen, a highborn lady or a woman, when your husband publicly groped kitchen maids and whores for all to see. How could a kingdom respect me when not even my husband could?

And I could see it in everyone's eyes. Perhaps they admired that I was not crazed or falling apart yet, some of them even pitied my silence, but no one respected me. Not the Kingsguard who could not look me in the eyes when they met me, not Stannis who must have thought I was a fool for still standing, not the Council when they eyed my empty womb like it offended their positions every time they saw me. Not even Lord Arryn, to whom I would go to the most. He would tell me what my husband did not bother to tell me, things discussed at the Council meetings and the goings on in the Kingdom, but I could no longer shake the feeling that not even he respected me nor saw me as a whole person. I was only an unfortunate extension, an accessory to Robert's needs and Robert's line, sad and lonely and to them surely by now broken.

Jon Arryn is a nice man, though. He's a good man, as good as one could find here. He cares for Robert deeply and I know that he sees in him what I only get a glimpse of in time. Courage and passion, while I am usually faced with the other end of that coin -anger. All things considered, no matter how close he was to Robert and how much I could see he loved him, I trusted Jon Arryn. He was kind, and gentle, and always fatherly. Perhaps that is what Robert loved most about him too.

As for my husband's temper, there was hardly anything to be done about that. It was never really directed at me, I could scarcely say i've done anything to invoke his wrath -besides marrying him, of course, he shouted at anyone that was there to listen. At the cupbearer, his squires, the maids, the Kingsguard and his council, and he never held back even when I was on his arm. It was like he wanted me to see something, like he was trying to prove that that is who he was, like he wanted me to forget the boy I knew. He was already a distant memory, but he was all I had to cling on. For all the passion and anger Robert naturally emitted it was a wonder that our marriage was so dry and cold. The lost boy and the Robert I had now were the only ones I had. And then, of course, there was Renly.

Renly was the sweetest boy who ever lived. He was loud -he would not be Robert's kin if he was not, but he was always loud with laughter and abundant with sweetness. I could not speak to him, I could not tell him of the terrible numbness I felt when I lay by his brother's side, but he spoke to me. He told me of what he wanted to be when he was older, of his grand wedding and how he would search for a dragon across the Narrow Sea. "You sweet boy." I would say to him as I combed through his raven black hair with my fingers, "I'm not sweet, I'm strong." He would say bouncing off whatever surface that happened to surround us. I would read to him at his insistence and often as it seems that Maester Cressen had him quite spoilt on that front. He would come to me with a volume heavier than his own head and I would read to him until the day grew dark, and he would not move, he'd only listen, the loud boy would listen.

Tonight it was far past time for bed but Renly came to me right after dinner with a book about the Dance of Dragons, and I could not resist his sweet eyes. He climbed into my bed and rested his head against my chest while my voice carried tales of flight, great war and rivalry. Whenever I felt his little hands move against me I wondered whether this is what it would feel like to have a child, the son that Robert and the Kingdom wanted. A prince, a perfect black haired prince, would he still like me to read to him? Perhaps Renly was my only chance at doing so.

It was the strangest thing to finally feel like myself around a child of only six, but there was a certain freedom I found around him and his happiness that unchained a part of me that wanted so desperately to show itself again. I was not this icy, silent Queen, I was not a Queen at all. This isn't who I am, I am Helaena of Estermont, not this stiff placeholder for peace. At some point far across the Bays from this city I used to laugh all the time, my brother would take me sailing and I used to draw for hours trying to capture all the colours that made up the Narrow Sea. I was alive and I was so full of the summer storms I had grown used to. There were no summer storms in King's Landing, only a harsh sun that continued to judge me with every passing day.

As I continued reading to Renly I could almost feel him starting to doze off peacefully against my chest, so it was safe to assume that he would be sleeping with me tonight. Carefully so as not to disturb the tired boy I reached out for the candle at my bedside to blow it out, but I was stopped in my tracks as the door to my chambers flew open to reveal my husband's swaying figure in the doorway.

He was clutching a goblet of wine and sipping at it freely as he approached me, I saw the shine Ser Barristan's hair hold back and close the door behind his King. I don't think he registered Renly's presence against my breast because he barely looked at me as he walked deeper into the only place that was my own.

I brought my hand up to my lips to animate the silence that should have been maintained and Robert finally looked at me as I pointed to the sleeping child next to me. For a moment, I felt so utterly grateful to Renly because his unexpected presence would have spared me another night of feeling like I was second to a ghost, but it all vanished when I saw the effects of the wine travel to Robert's eyes and his usually silent nightly visit would not be so for tonight.

"What is this?!" He roared out, causing Renly to jolt awake and me to clutch Renly closer.

I had never been yelled at by Robert before, at least not so directly, and so I sweetened my voice slightly in some sort of appeasement.

"I was reading Renly a story and he fell asleep," Renly in turn grabbed my nightgown tightly with his eyes wide, "it's not a problem, Robert."

"It _is_ a problem when i'm to visit my wife and instead find a little boy hiding in her sheets instead!" He bellowed loud enough to wake the entire floor. "Go back to your room, men don't need to be told stories!" He came closer to my side of the bed moved to tear Renly from where he lay in my arms, smelling of wine and other women, and I got up instead, carrying Renly to the floor and bent down so I was level with him.

"Renly, darling, you should go back to your chamber for tonight, Robert and I have some things to talk about."

"When Robert goes back to his room can I come back here?" I would have wept for the sweetness in his heart were it not for thunderous King that stood in our midst.

"Get out, boy, before I throw you out myself!" He leant over and carried Renly over his shoulder to take him to Ser Barristan outside.

"Take him to his room," I heard him order, "And don't eve let me catch you sleeping here again!" Robert continued shouting after them.

I had never had the nerve to before, but I was incensed at my husband.

"He's just a boy, Robert." I tried to say, but even my fury fell at my feet when I was faced with him -dark and suddenly quiet like the night. _He's just a boy, he needs a mother._

"I'm the Baratheon that married you. I'm the one that gets to sleep in your bed." Robert slurred as he made his way once more to his side of the bed. To my surprise, he didn't wait for me to return and by the time I had settled next to him he was already asleep on his back, snoring boorishly.

It didn't matter that he didn't bed me -which is what he had come to me for. It didn't matter to him that this is exactly what we could have done had Renly stayed -instead he has been cast out. It didn't matter to him that I felt stiff and cold lying next to him. All that mattered to him was his victory, even one over a sleepy little boy.

The next day I woke with Robert's heavy arms slung around my waist, careless and suffocating. I thought of how the council would surely disapprove as I carefully crept out of bed to avoid the coupling I was spared from the night before -I had learned that Robert had an exceptional appetite in the morning. I was not afraid of being bedded by him, I never was, but I was still angry with him. And it would take a lot more time for me to cool my agitation than one night.

I left my room, knowing that someone would walk in eventually to ready the King, and went to walk Renly to his training that morning. I still didn't understand why Robert had insisted he train so early, I could only assume that kind of activity would only harden a boy and Renly was still so young, and it was not like Robert really bothered explaining to me. At about midday I returned to my rooms to find, thankfully, that they were empty. And so I took the time to answer a few letters and have my lunch as I stared out onto the city wondering how to draw it.

There was always some guard or other at my door, and they switched shift so often that I hardly noticed it, except this time I couldn't miss the outstanding gold of Jaime Lannister's head when I left my room. The initial shock that I had projected onto the situation held us at a standstill for all of a second, and, for what I believe it be the first time since coming to court, Jaime Lannister looked me in the eye. I did not find the pity that I had been accustomed to finding thus far, nor did I find the disdain I was shown for my supposedly weak womb, I found nothing and I welcomed it. It was a look of impassiveness, of indifference, and I couldn't help but find relief in that. He didn't look at me like I was his Queen -for all I knew I was not, but there was no dignity in being Queen. I was glad to not be Queen, to Renly and now to Ser Jaime.

As I made my way through the Holdfast, intending to find a quiet gazebo to sew my husband's -and also some of Renly's I had snuck in, shirts, I could hear Robert's bawdy laughs all the way from the floor above me, but he surely had no care for who heard what -especially his Queen. Robert is always so solemn, so sullen when he pushes into me at night -if he ever finds it in him to come to my rooms that is, but he seems to have no issue with joviality when he takes his whores. Perhaps it's because I am his wife and it should have been Lyanna Stark in my place -and perhaps Robert always knew those whores would never change, he would have had them regardless of who his wife was no matter how much he may have wished to believe otherwise.

I didn't dare look back at Ser Jaime as the sounds danced through the halls tauntingly. _Don't change your mind now, Ser Jaime. Don't pity me._

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 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed, this is still starting and things will start getting deeper next chapter. This is more of a slow-burn fic so...yeah.**

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	4. Loved and Lost

**A/N:** **Thanks for the reviews, they keep me going!**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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The whores kept my husband sated and busy most days, and were it not for the searing humiliation that came with his public displays I would have actually preferred that arrangement. But whores do not birth heirs, only Queens do -and I apparently was one.

Why do whores get to have a king who kisses them and I, a Queen, does not? Why does the Queen have no one who kisses her? Is it only Kings who get lonely up on that thrice damned chair? I get lonely, too. Even when Robert lies next to me, I am lonely. I have no one to speak to but myself -gods only know how long that'll last before it drives me to madness. I have no one to indulge me in their company besides Renly, a delightful boy indeed but a boy all the same. I have no one to kiss me, no one to hold me. But I had never needed someone of that sort before; and I would not start now.

It had been four moons since my wedding and the council was losing patience with me. And if I could not tell by the murmurs heard whenever I passed I could definitely tell now as I sat in the Hand's office with Jon Arryn regarding me benevolently -and yet also with pity.

"There is a matter of much sensitivity I wish to speak to you about, your Grace, but nevertheless it is a matter that _must_ be discussed." I couldn't believe it, I actually couldn't believe it. It hadn't even been a year, and yet Robert -or his council, had already sent a kind old man to tell me how my own womb worked?

"Do speak freely, my Lord Hand." I urged him to continue even though I knew I was about to take no delight in what he would say. But I was Queen, as everyone liked to keep reminding me, and I would be made of tougher skin than that.

"Pardon my asking, my Lady, but how often...how often do you and the King..." He trailed off and I was too close to indignant at the prospect of answering that question to be embarrassed.

"Once, perhaps twice a week if he is willing." I answered quickly trying to cover how unnerved I was just thinking about it. _Was that something else I should feel embarrassed about?_ It seemed so looking at the disappointed look on Lord Arryn's face.

"If I may, your Grace, that doesn't seem to be enough." I am not enough, you mean. I will never be enough.

"I see." I said simply.

"Could that not be remedied, your Grace?" He asked with a hope I knew he was probably ashamed to have in that moment, but the question left me confused.

"Remedied? How could I remedy that?"

"You could go to hi-"

"Go to Robert?" I would scoff, but it's too ridiculous a notion. Either way, Lord Arryn remained silent, probably choosing his next words carefully, but I did not wait -for once, to make my thoughts known.

"I'm sorry by Lord Hand, but why am I being put to blame for this? I have done, and will continue to do, my duty as Robert's wife. My husband visits me whenever he deigns me fit for the attention or deigns himself drunk enough to forget that it is me he is lying with. He takes his whores wherever and whenever he pleases, myself included, and yet I am expected to crawl to him to beg for an heir?"

"I understand that this is difficult. Robert is-" Lord Arryn would dive to Robert's defence, as always. But this time I was not easily pressed to let him.

"Robert is King. And Robert is grieving, and Robert is angry. But Robert is never responsible, is he?" He stared into my silently as he bore witness to my unkempt anger. Somehow, it bothered me that he would not yell at me or put me in my place. He was silent, just as everyone else was, and silence was quickly becoming dishonest to me and it only served to make me angrier.

"Have no fear my Lord Hand, I shall go to my husband's rooms now. Let it never be said that Helaena Estermont shirked her duty." Lord Arryn was unfortunately the only person I could afford being spiteful to -and because of that he had to be on the ugly end of my frustrations.

I did not wait for his apologetic look as I pushed through the door of his office and made my way out of the Tower of the Hand followed by Ser Mandon who tread loudly behind me. He followed me as I made my way out and about the castle to where the royal apartments were in Maegor's Holdfast and only left me when I had reached the Holdfast where the castle guard stood posted.

In a path of suddenly determined anger I marched on higher to my husband's chambers. _Lord Arryn wants me to make an heir? I'll give them an heir._

As I neared my husband's chambers I spied the now familiar golden locks of the Lannister Kingsguard standing by the door and registered as I grew closer the now also familiar sounds of wanton women coming from my husband's room.

I could have stopped in my tracks, turned the other way and scurried back to my room to save myself the humiliation, especially in the face of the man meant to serve my husband with his life. But I was tired of cowering to the dishonour that Robert forced upon me, and still hot off my slow defiance to Lord Arryn I kept my chin high as I continued on and stopped in front of my husband's door.

Ser Jaime afforded me with a quick bow and slightly disconcerted raise of his brow. It was scarce for anyone to boast that they stood guard outside a lecherous husband's door as his wife approached.

"Your Grace, the King is...incapacitated at the moment." It was, I believe, the first time Ser Jaime had ever addressed me directly, and it was safe to say that it was not what I wanted to hear.

"I see." I ground out but remained still facing the door that stood between me, my husband, and his whores.

"I can send someone for you when he is free to see you, if you wish, your Grace."

"No need. I'll wait here." The young man's eyes widened at the implication of my being there and hearing what he had obviously gotten used to hearing -and from the way that his face took a slight blanche to it I knew that it would not be good. But his shock did not last long at all and he wore his indifference once more as he nodded to me.

"As you wish, your Grace."

I crossed my arms over my chest and stood facing the opposite wall as I planted myself on the other side of the door that Ser Jaime was already standing on. _A wife standing guard to her husband's infidelities, what a sight to behold._

The time passed immeasurably slow and I had managed to drown out the sounds being emitted as I stubbornly held my ground. In truth, I had no idea what I was about to do or say when I walked into those rooms, but I knew that I was furious. Furious at Robert, at the Small Council, at myself for being there. Perhaps it was a good thing that I could stand there and mull things over in my own head -it was always the company that I preferred.

"How many do you think are in there?" Suddenly ripped through the silence, and I realised that it was not the voice in my head come to life but a question form the golden knight who looked mockingly intrigued.

I took a moment to merely blink at the knight and his question, still confused as I was torn from my uncompromising daze of fury.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I usually count three, but by the sound of it seems most like four." My nostrils flared at the fact that not even the Kingsguard could spare me the humiliation -especially so bluntly. Was he even allowed to say so? I had the distinct impression that he did not care.

"You shouldn't speak of the King that way, Ser Jaime." I don't know why I didn't mention that he shouldn't be speaking to me that way either. And by the look of it, he seems to have noticed it as well.

"You are right, my Queen." He said with a smirk that ascended before the silence -the silence save for Robert and his whores.

As the time drew even longer I found myself unable to think and instead I listened to the moans and groans leaving the room -and I realised that Ser Jaime was right about the exact number of whores bedding our king in the current moment. It somehow felt nice to hear Robert laugh that way -a way he only laughed when he would occasionally sit with Renly and I. What kind of wife, what kind of woman, was I to find relief in that?

I was pulled from my new thoughts once again.

"It must be hard, I imagine. To stand here and listen to the man you love do terrible things to beautiful women." He said once more. And it sounded just a tad more somber than before. _You do pity me, after all._

"I don't love him" I blurted out, sounding almost offended at what the knight had accused me of feeling. I feel nothing.

"You shouldn't speak of the King that way, your Grace." He threw my words back at me looking almost satisfied and apologetic; how that was possible, I did not know.

I was suddenly overcome with urge to leave the entire treacherous floor. _This was a bad idea_. It was clear that even through his drunkenness -or perhaps because of it, that Robert would not be done whoring any time soon and the air only grew thicker between Ser Jaime and I as I slowly lost my resolve to face my husband. Perhaps I was just as cowardly as everyone else was. I had forgotten what I was even trying to prove in the first place.

I could stand there for hours on end and listen on as my husband dishonoured and disrespected me, but I could no longer stand before Ser Jaime as he curiously regarded me in that way -like I was a ghost just trying to gain flesh.

I walked briskly away from the scene, leaving it behind with the only acknowledgment that I had even stood there being the hurried bow Ser Jaime gave to my sudden exit. I had to leave, I had to get out of that damned tower. I encountered one of my maids on my way out and asked her to bring my pencils to the fountain gardens I was now used to sitting in -I did not want to be in that tower for another moment longer than I had to. I decided to keep as far away as I could from Jaime Lannister, his honesty -even if it was implied, scared me and I was already afraid of too much.

After the unexpected interlude to my day I carried on the same way I usually would, drawing peacefully in a part of the gardens that people scarcely ventured into to disturb me. I would pretend not to see the Kingsguard lingering by the bushes dispassionately, and he would pretend that watching over me was worth the vow of celibacy.

Although I dreaded returning to the isolated tower I called home I knew that Renly's lessons would now be over and I had to have my fill of him for the day -it seemed Renly was the only Baratheon I could truly say enjoyed my company. I had seen Stannis often enough -being named master-of-ships by his brother meant that he couldn't stay hidden at Dragonstone forever, and he came to court often enough since his new home -a home that my disappointing state allowed him to stay in, was so close to the capital. Though he was not overtly averse to my company, he was still the Stannis I knew, which was a relief in itself that he had not changed. Stannis would usually sit stiff, strong and positively uncomfortable whenever I engaged him, but sometimes, on those rare good days, he would smile apologetically at me and call me sister. Stannis's wife had only come to court once to accompany her husband, and the proud lioness surprisingly enamoured everyone with overt sweetness -I wondered whether I was the only one who thought it insincere. Or perhaps it was because I had caught Robert stare at her unabashedly while I sat by his side at many dinners. Regardless, her sweetness peculiarly thawed when we were left in each other's presence, and I could not say that I was eager to indulge in a duplicitous friendship. But Renly, Renly was all mine. Unconditionally and without me having to ask he leant me his company and gave me something to smile at.

I peaked through his door, expecting to find Renly playing with his wooden sword but instead found him a lump on his big bed shivering with sobs. My face drained itself of all colour and I instantly ran to his side.

"What's wrong, my sweet boy?" I questioned worriedly as I grabbed his shoulders trying to inspect whether he had been hurt.

"Robert says he's sending me back to Storm's End." My heart stopped. He couldn't. He can't rob me of the only happiness I had clung to here. But I didn't have the time to process the news or what could be done about it as Renly fell to my chest in dejection.

"I don't want to leave, Helaena," He clung to my dress tightly and he shut his eyes so hard that I felt the very blue of his eyes would stain my dress if he pressed them any harder.

"Please don't let Robert send me away!" I pulled him away from me so that I could face the boy I had grown to love as my own and moved my fingers to delicately wipe his tears from his pale face whilst trying to collect my thoughts without visibly breaking before him.

"Wipe your tears my darling. Strong boys like you don't cry. I'll talk to Robert, it'll all be alright. I promise." I tried to keep my voice kind and level in order to calm him, but I had no idea whether it worked or not as he stayed pressed to my dress. I stayed with him until his whimpers fell silent and the raven-haired boy was lulled to a sleep where he would not have to face the pain of being abandoned once more. As soon as I had tucked Renly in, my feet knew where to take me.

And once again that day I found myself in Jon Arryn's office but this time my Lord husband had deemed it fit to join me.

"He's just a boy!" My voice climbed the stairs that had held it back all this time, occasionally slipping in the process, but it still held as I faced Lord Arryn with a question I knew I should have been directing at my Robert.

"He'll have to be a man soon. If Storm's End doesn't harden him then I don't know what will." Robert shouted back, also facing Lord Arryn. I almost felt sorry for the man to stand in between a bickering husband and wife from the Stormlands if it were not for the fact that he must have known this as well.

"Then let me go with him." I said simply and firmly, finally braving to look at Robert whose eyes were nearly red with dumbfounded shock.

"Have you lost your mind, woman?" _I have a name._

Jon Arryn stood between us now, helpless to the rising flames in my husband and I, and I finally felt the storm brew within me strong enough to fight Robert's.

"Do not call me woman!" I bellowed out in both frustration and exhaustion. _Could he not tell by now?_

"I'll call you anything I want!" This was better. This was loud and messy but it was still better than the cold silence that was so full between us. I found myself craving his thunder, craving his anger, just to feel something more than the nothingness.

"Renly needs me, he needs someone! You can't just send him away to live alone!" _Don't leave me alone, don't leave me alone._

Robert was about to say something -or yell it judging by the large breath he drew in and the anger that dusted his eyes, but Jon Arryn stepped in right before his wind could ruin an already broken house.

"Your Grace, the King and I both understand your affection for little Renly, I assure you it is greatly appreciated. But as Queen you can not be away from the King at this time, especially without the heir the Kingdom needs. That time spent apart must be spent here, with your husband, your Grace." Again with talk of an heir. I was tired, I was spent, I was sad and fallen even deeper into my sadness at the memory of those sad blue eyes.

"My name is Helaena! You know it!" I looked to Robert then, "You know my name! Or is that another thing you've forgotten?" They both stared at me blankly, no doubt already thinking I was half mad -perhaps I already was. I was tired of being your Grace, my Queen, _woman,_ I was no blood of Robert's with any of those titles, nor was I his blood when he came to me at night like a savage. We were not blood if that is the way that he got to treat me.

I was a girl once, a girl with spirit who sailed and rode -my cousin was the first person who ever took me riding. The man that stood before, tired with trying to conceal his grief, no longer even resembled my memory of him.

If they were to use my like a mare with no value beyond what I birthed then the least they could do, the smallest dignity they could give me, was saying my name. Even horses had their own names. Why had I allowed mine to be lost?

But as I regarded the both of them I knew that in the end it mattered not what they called me, all that mattered was that I took whatever Robert thought to give me and in return gave them what they wanted - _what the Kingdom needed_ , as if it was by my own choice.

At least now came the realisation that it took two to make a trueborn heir, and though it was a small victory for them to admit that I had done my duty to the best of my abilities, I dreaded the implication of such a realisation and the efforts of its consequences.

From that day on Robert would come to my bed every night.

I had never missed my first husband in the time that he was gone for the war; I had only met him shortly before our wedding and he rode off the next day to prove his loyalty to our Robert, but I missed him now more than ever. We had only consummated our marriage once, but he was gentle as he broke my maidenhead. He was tender, and though it was not particularly enjoyable, it was heaven in comparison to being used like a sandbag. Robert would come to me while I was asleep and would not even bother to wake me sometimes. Instead, I woke up to a stinging soreness between my legs and the feel of his large hands on my breasts and I wouldn't even make a sound -it made no difference to him whether I was asleep or awake, my pleasure meant nothing, it was meaningless in the equation for an heir. I think he even preferred it when I was asleep so that I would not move or make a sound and he could instead better picture his darling Lyanna in my place.

I had felt sorry for the Wolfgirl at first, her death was tragic, mysterious, and far before her time, and no one deserves the fate of the Starks; of any of the lost ones. But it was hard not to be bitter once I had accepted that any wife of Robert's would only be a shadow to his lost betrothed. I hated her, I hated her with everything I had just so I would not hate Robert; just so things could be bearable. If Robert wants you so bad, you can have him! Take him! Gods and the Others take all of you! But after my bitterness would fade I would feel sorry for her once more that she had been on the path to two rough fates -no matter which of them had happened. Had she married Robert, regardless of how he worshipped her, she would have had to put up with him; the real him, eventually. That was what I had over Lyanna Stark, Robert did not need to pretend with me. This is who he is, and he will never change, not even for the love of a wolfgirl. Had Lyanna Stark married him she would have probably suffered in much of the same ways as I do, but instead she was taken and now she rests in the crypts of Winterfell; and my doubts over which of the two fates was a more merciful one would probably have me charged with treason.

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	5. Namesake

**A/N:** **Wow, i'm really happy with the response to the last chapter and to this story in general! It's really amazing of you guys, thank you for reading and taking the time to comment as it truly is what spurs me to write more/faster. It's also been really interesting to read different theories on what might happen, i'm interested to read where you guys think this is going.**

 **I hope this chapter lives up to what you've expected!**

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Renly's letters were clumsy, but they were the most sincere thing that I had to look forward to.

He had cried when he left, and Robert had yelled without any care for who heard. The little Lord did not even say his goodbyes as he clung to my dress still crying and begging to stay, and Robert had literally torn him from my arms when he had finally had enough of the display. For the first time I wept in front of the council and the Kingsguard -and my husband. Even as they sailed off I could hear Renly screaming for me, _"Helaena! Helaena!"_ And I knew that that sound would haunt me at night. At that moment though, it twisted the sword that already pierced through my heart, and I struggled not to fall to my knees as I suppressed every part of me not to howl out for him in return until Lord Arryn came to my side. The man held me close to his shoulder in much the same way that I would hold Renly and I unknowingly fisted what I could of his doublet into my hands. It would not do to have a Queen put on such a display, and i'm sure I was being stared at by everyone in attendance, but I couldn't watch as he sailed away any farther. I was not Queen Halaena Baratheon, I was broken and desperate. It was a sharper pain than I had ever felt before, even when I was told of my father and husband's deaths. They had died far away from me and in some ways I was spared the pain of having to bear witness -but Renly was right there only yards away, and I could not reach him. He was slipping through my fingers, and as his cries faded to the bay I shuddered deeper into Jon Arryn's dark navy doublet like the child I was never allowed to be.

"Hush, my child. It's alright, he'll be alright." He combed through my hair gently and eventually repeated the motion enough times to calm me to a presentable state.

Robert said nothing as he held my arm in his when we were due to walk back, and I wondered whether it was by choice that he showed nothing. Maybe he would miss Renly as well but knew that it would serve no one to grieve his departure. No, Robert was busy grieving someone else entirely. I had no doubt that he loved Renly, if there was anyone in King's Landing that Robert Baratheon loved besides Jon Arryn it was Renly. But then again, Renly was not in King's Landing anymore, was he?

The first weeks were the hardest especially when Renly would write to me about how unhappy he was. I had to muster every ounce of strength that Robert had not stripped me of to refrain from demanding I join Renly in Storm's End. But the message was clear: I was not to leave King's Landing until I could produce an heir for the King. I was a hostage to my empty womb.

But now as the days surely went by, so did the confidence growing in Renly's letters and I was glad to see that he was no longer despairing on his own at Storm's End. Perhaps once a long awaited prince is born and Stannis can take his rightful place as Lord of Storm's end can Renly return to court permanently -if that is still what he so wished.

I could hear people whisper about me when I walked back into the Red Keep with dried tears staining my cheeks.

 _"I'm afraid the Queen has far too sweet and gentle a disposition for the King."_

I was neither sweet nor gentle, not if that was what they thought of me. I didn't even know what I was, so why had it become someone else's job to decide that for me? Renly's absence and the lack of his laughter only provided more room for the whispers to leak into my ears and invade my thoughts -it made me miss the distraction of caring for someone so greatly.

It was a great burden to be needed so, as well as it was an addictive craving. I wondered, was that what motherhood was like? To carry the responsibility of your duty whilst simultaneously feeding off of it? It was strange to think of myself as a mother, even to Renly, but I supposed that I was the closest thing to one he had ever had. Would I be the same kind of mother to my own children as I was to Renly? Would they love me like Renly does? Would I let them down, too? Would I even love them the same way knowing they belonged to Robert? Renly was part of Robert too -and I hadn't resented him, not in the slightest, but I would be lying if I said that it was not something I feared for my own offspring. What kind of parents would Robert and I even make? I didn't know what it was like to have parents who barely spared two words for one another, and I know that Robert didn't either. His parents were very much in love, it was clear to me even as a child -and I knew what that looked like because I saw it enough when I regarded my own father and his Lady wife.

Whenever I thought of my late Lord father I would recall the stories he would recite to me about my namesake when I was a little girl.

"Your name is that of a much loved Queen." He would tell me, leaving out the part that while she was popular and indeed much loved she was also plagued with grief and jumped out of Maegor's Holdfast to die on the spikes beneath it -finally escaping her despair. I think of that every time my eyes dance on the tower from afar, it haunts me. Robert took me to the top floor once, "to get away from prying eyes" he had said. He used me harshly against the sill of the window while Ser Barristan stood guard somewhere, bunching up my skirts to my waist and entering me without a word. The humiliation is what burnt the most, and no one, least of all the men who stood to protect _him_ above me, would ever say a thing about it. I did not feel like a Queen then, but when I looked down below as he used me with no care I wondered if I should die like one.

But all thoughts of suicidal dragonrider past queens dissipated at the suffocating tension I felt as I walked the garden for the thousandth time. I wasn't allowed to leave King's Landing, surely, but did that also mean I could never leave the Red Keep? It was a large and insurmountable structure, yes, but one I had quickly grown tired of especially with no one special enough to have my attention to dwell in it. I thought that perhaps a visit to the docks could be refreshing, they could not refuse me that -could they?

Now with realigned purpose I walked head on to the side of the gardens I knew led closely to the gates of the Castle, thinking that I could surely I summon up some guards there to accompany me. My determined march was interrupted as I accidentally nearly bumped into my husband's tall figure walking towards me.

He was smiling, and he looked as handsome as I always knew him to be. To his side stood Ser Barristan and behind him he was closely followed by Ser Preston Greenfield and Ser Jaime Lannister. I had successfully evaded being in contact with the young knight -he didn't make it difficult, but I got an annoyed sense of regret when I speculated that perhaps he was avoiding me as well.

My newfound sense of direction certainly did not go unnoticed by my husband -coincidentally the man I would have assumed paid the least amount of attention to me out of all the men standing in my presence.

"Where are you off to?" He asked hiding his curiosity under joviality.

"I wanted to take a walk on the docks, your Grace." I answered simply -it couldn't be important if I didn't make it out to be.

"Have you lost your m-" He started before promptly holding himself back. Did Robert Baratheon...fear impropriety? Did he fear my wroth reaction? I thought I would never see the day. "Queens can't just go for walks by themselves." I nearly rolled my eyes. He could not really think I was that stupid? But I refrained. I did not think that the King's approval was needed over all of my movements -but I was certain his _disapproval_ would limit them greatly.

"I know that, my Lord husband. I was about to notify some of the guards to accompany me, but since I have you here and you seem to be in no shortage of a Kingsguard i'll relieve you of one." Before he could agree or even reply I had turned to face Ser Jaime.

"Ser Jaime, if you will." Who could refuse a Queen? I'd prefer not to have that question answered.

As for the youngest member of the Kingsguard, he looked to Robert in a resigned fashion in search for approval -or anything, he didn't seem to care too much what he was or wasn't assigned to do, that much was obvious.

"You heard her, Kingslayer. Off you go!" Robert commander gruffly.

"Yes, your Grace."

Despite the resigned nature that Ser Jaime had agreed in to accompany me I had a feeling that he was perhaps relieved at getting to leave the Red Keep at this time of day, as I also was.

We had made it to the docks with a heavier guard from the Gold Cloaks but once we actually walked along the pier it was just myself and the Kingsguardian, seeing as how the bustle of the docks would not allow for such a large guard to surround me. Besides, I would have rather not been suffocated by all those guards, and I had every faith that Ser Jaime would be equipped enough to defend me if it ever came to it.

He walked behind me and it was quiet despite the sound around us. It reminded me of being on the docks of Estermont, which I had often gone to with Andrew, and we would watch as the incoming shipments of stuffs came in and noted how the waves changed with every passing ship. Except, of course, back in Estermont I was not being stared at by everyone occupying the docks.

I leant myself to a cement railing overlooking Blackwater Bay, and even though its shore was not as blue-green as the one I came to live for and the stench was fouler than it had ever been at home, I imagined that it was Estermont and I was back in Greenstone -alone, but also happy. At least I was free for now, from the Red Keep, from Robert, from Jon Arryn and the small council.

Speaking of freedoms or the lack of them, I only just recalled the existence of the man standing behind me. I hardly felt his presence there, and I was grateful to him despite my mixed thoughts on just what he was and where he fit in King's Landing.

Emboldened by the salty winds of the outside, I ventured into new territory and decided that the docks could never be enjoyed without a good conversation, or a conversation at all -but that could hardly be had with the weight of our last conversation hovering heavily over us. Still with my back turned, I began.

"It was improper of you to speak to me the way you did." I knew he heard me by the shuffle of his feet. He didn't move when he answered with a cool voice.

"Yes, your Grace." I turned to examine him then, and found that he was looking at me like he had expected me to turn around. Still, he was unapologetic about the subject, and I found my indignity evaporating as well. Insecurity bloomed where pride's place once was, and I found myself fidgeting with my hands the same way I did when I stood before the King as a girl just summoned to court.

"You haven't -you haven't told anyone? About what I said?" _I don't love him_.

"No. But in all fairness I don't need to, your Grace." I was not sure what that meant, especially coming from him, but he didn't smile as he said it, and instead he rested his eyes on the same view I had just been taken with. _Was it that obvious?_

"Am I to assume then that anything I say to you is in confidence?" It was nearly a joke, _nearly_. But I was also half serious and interested. The _Kings_ guard served the King, but to what extent did their services extend to the Queen?

"I can make no such promise, my Queen." It was deflating to say the least, and I was ready to resume losing myself to the Bay before those famed emerald eyes turned back to mine, "But I can certainly try." It wasn't much -but I had never wanted for much, and it was enough for a small smile. It felt like so long since I had smiled without anyone watching, not since Renly left.

"I should have brought a coin purse, those mussels look good." I said as I pointed at the salesman on the other side of the dock with a necklace of mussels hanging around his thin neck. The smirk returned to Ser Jaime's face as I witnessed the lighting of an idea spring to his mind.

"Your wish is my command, my Queen."

"Oh n-" I tried, but it was too late.

"You there, how much for four?" Ser Jaime flipped the man a coin and returned to me holding four mussels in both hands, and I noticed that he walked more to my side now than behind me, which put me at more ease for some reason.

"You're too kind, Ser. How much do I owe you?" I asked with feigned politeness. I had had much practice at it recently.

"Consider it my treat, your Grace." It was nice of him to indulge me, at least. It is more than I could expect of any other Lannister I knew.

"Alright. I suppose it would not do me any good to be in debt to a Lannister anyway." I teased and his ghosted smile grew to a full blown smirk as we walked along the bustling docks forgetting the sombreness our positions now demanded of us.

When I finally returned to my rooms dusk was finally beginning to settle, which meant that dinner was not too far away. Deciding that a moment of peace without any corsets would be most welcome, I removed my gown without any of my ladies in waiting -who were, in fact, _not_ waiting. As I slid my dress down to my ankles I gasped at the glaring streak of blood that lined its way from my core down to my calfs, nearly falling back in the process. I lifted my shift to examine the sudden bleeding whilst calling out to one of my maids for help -my moon's blood was not due for another two weeks and I was never prone to random bleeding. In my callings for a maid I had instead been gifted a Kingsguard, and Ser Meryn -who was posted outside my door, opened the door swiftly in answer to my increasingly distressed calls.

"My Que-" He stopped dead in his tracks as he regarded the sight of me in only my shift that was lifted and my lower half completely drenched in blood. I was too concerned with the bleeding that would not stop to care for what I looked like in another's eyes.

"Get. The. Maester." I growled out, and for a man always so arrogant he obeyed rather clumsily. These men who wielded their swords fully prepared to cut men in half, men who had ridden into war with a welcome challenge, they sure seemed prone to swooning at the sight of a woman bleeding from a place they had only known for their own pleasure.

By the time Maester Pycelle made it to my chambers the blood had stopped flowing and now stuck to where it bled on my legs. One of the maids, who had finally graced me with her presence, offered to clean it off with a wet cloth but I thought it was best to keep it until Maester Pycelle got there to examine it. The old man bobbed his head down to my private area in a way that still disgusted me regardless of how often he had gotten around to doing it.

I felt discomfort as I felt something push against me without warning, and was about to release a word of complaint before it had gone. Maester Pycelle's flimsy tuft of white hair reappeared over the thin sheet of my nightgown and looked at me nearly dumbstruck.

"What is it? Is there something wrong?" I questioned desperately. There was enough trouble and speculation to be had with that area in general, unexpected bleeding was hardly something to be excited about. My mind raced at the possibilities of what it meant and what would happen to me if it was worse than I thought.

"Nothing's wrong, your Grace. You're withchild." Everyone in the room gasped out in shock whereas I drifted to another place as I tried to envision who it was that grew inside me. _Is this how you announce yourself, little one? A flare for the dramatic, I see._

Robert swung me high in his arms at the news, which I had been spared to tell him myself. He hugged me in what I felt was both happiness and relief -relief that the trying part was over, and so was I. Within an hour the entire castle was made aware as Robert walked around the Keep shouting it to whoever's ears would hold out to listen. The usual grand feast that night was even grander, and Robert had danced with me deep into his cups, nuzzling my neck with his mouth and resting his hands on my still flat stomach. _We're a family now, we're going to be a family._ He kept repeating until I finally grew to smile at the prospect. Aside from the sudden displays of affection I accepted his attentions openly, especially with the entire court watching, and as I twirled around in his arms, laughing publicly once more after what felt like years, I caught glimpses of absorbent golden hair leave the hall.

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 **Please tell me what you think!**


	6. Just Enough

**A/N: I want to thank everyone for your kind words, they mean so much to me and this story. Thank you all for your consistent support.**

 **Hope I don't let you down!**

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"I told Ned if it's a girl i'll have her marry his boy Robb." Robert conversed freely as he walked me to an unknown location within the Holdfast.

I held myself back from saying that there was no way any child of ours would leave home, least of all to as high North within the King's jurisdiction, but if there was anything I knew it was that children, especially girls, were not destined to stay home, comfortable and loved -for here I was, away from home, just as my duty demanded of me. It turns out I didn't have to say anything as Robert added what his friend had replied to him,

"But Ned said that his Cat wants their son to marry for "love"! Can you believe that? The old fool!" Yes, a marriage of love, how inconsiderate and unattainable.

Anyways, it was for the best I think -I don't think Robert saw the irony yet of marrying his potential daughter to a boy named after him, after all, they say girls always end up marrying their fathers.

In my case it was untrue; there was of course the fact that it was all completely unplanned and out of my hands to take into consideration. But while my father was as stormy as his homeland demanded of him, he was also gentle and cared a great deal for me and the little things I would do with my day. The same could not be said for Robert -he was all thunder.

At times, when my growing belly would keep me up at night i'd recall how attentive my father had grown after my mother died -would Robert do the same if I were to die and leave our child solely under his charge? Or would he send them away to shirk the duty no one bothered enforcing on fathers, just like he did Renly. And to his bastards, i'm assuming.

We rounded a corner and Robert excitedly stepped to a door and pushed it open -he was smiling a lot more at me recently, that had to be good, right? I smiled at him before stepping into the room but my face fell immediately at the sight.

It was a nursery, with one crib and a small cot on the other side of the room, and I knew that it was a floor beneath the crown prince's chambers -this was it, this was the room where it happened. This is where Elia Martell and her child had been slaughtered. My colour left me at the horror of reimagining what was already terribly hard to forget.

"You can't be serious." I uttered out trying to grasp at why he had brought me here or why no one had even bothered removing the taunting cot.

"I was trying to do something nice." Robert sighed out sharply, craning his head down, deciding he was fed up. _Leading me to a nursery where the blood's barely washed off the floors is your idea of nice?_

"Elia Martell was raped and murdered in this room only moons ago. Her babe was killed here by the very man guarding your master of coin. You want my child, _our_ child, to sleep here?" I didn't know whether it was the added emotion of pregnancy or the rush I got when I could successfully bring myself to raise my voice at Robert, but I knew that I would never stand for this -rush or no rush.

He turned to face me fully with that familiar fury in his eyes, and his voice left him louder than I had anticipated.

"Our child will sleep here, in this room, where we won. And when he is old enough, I will have him moved upstairs to the Prince's chambers, where that other dragonspawn died." _You don't know it's a he. Just moments ago it was a she for your Ned._ He moved his fist around as he yelled like he was motivating me to battle -he was fighting the wrong war.

My blood boiled a thousand different ways at his stubbornness and how it had left no room for my own -I always held the responsibility of being reasonable because Robert could never grant me the freedom to do otherwise.

"There are a hundred different rooms." I tried to reason as I brought one hand to rest under the curving bump on my abdomen.

"And I choose this one! Gods damn you, woman!"

"Do not call me woman!" I cried out in added vexation. _I am Helaena, my name is Helaena._

"What do you want from me?" He asked suddenly exasperated like my presence was suffocating him and he threw his hands up in resignation.

How dare he? How dare he stand there and pretend like it was I that summoned him to court? However it may felt for all of court to assume I was a stupid little girl who couldn't please her husband, the humiliation of standing there while Robert made _me_ look the fool, like _he_ was the one who was being demanded of things left and right and _he_ was the one who had to give parts of himself up every day just to do his duty, was far beyond any I had ever felt.

"What have I ever done to deserve your scorn, Robert? I have never insulted you by trying to win your love. I could never do that to your beloved Lyanna." I said her name, now I was the one throwing it at his face where it didn't belong instead of he in the bedchamber.

"Don't say her name!" He yelled as he stomped closer, the terrible blue in his eyes giving meaning to his being the Demon of the Trident.

"Why not if it's the only name you remember?!" I shouted back to his face, to his heart, to any part of him that could hear me.

"I'm warning you!" He brought his hand up suddenly like he was about to strike me and I momentarily flinched at the uninvited hand before my own animosity flooded through me at the threat.

"Strike me, Robert! Strike me and be no different than the Mad King himself! Let's see that Targaryen blood of yours!"

 _My name is Helaena, my name is Helaena._

His face fell at the reminder and within seconds it had softened. He stood much the same, invading my space with his hand hanging limply mid-air, but his anger had dulled and regret washed over him. That was the thing with Baratheons -their changing moods and tempers barely gave you the chance to catch up.

I didn't wait for him -I wouldn't wait for him any longer, and I turned on my heels and left to find my own way back to my rooms knowing that he would not come after me, all the while vowing that any child of mine would never even set eyes on that room -never mind set foot into it.

My rooms were dead silent as I sat atop my bed, still seething at the injustice of it all. Would that be my fate if Robert managed to anger enough people? Would that happen to me and my child if Jon Arryn was unsuccessful in appeasing the Dornish Prince? Why did my fate always have to rest in the hands of others? Perhaps it was time I forged my own destiny, my own path, and broke through the unsteady line that fate always had me walking. I almost laughed at the suggestion -highborn ladies do not choose. Not even Queens can choose. Not me, not Rhaella Targaryen, not anyone. Only Shaera Targaryen, who chose to marry her brother. She successfully did not live long enough to see the horror of her offspring as well as Helaena Targaryen -she chose. And I hoped that it was merciful and painless.

The council had suggested they host a tourney recently -it seems the people finally deemed their King's wedding a reason for celebration now that his wife had not failed the Kingdom, but Tywin Lannister had vehemently refused stating that it would be too much unnecessary stress on the coin. He didn't need to add that things could still go south from here -I could miscarry or deliver a stillborn, or perhaps they would be blessed and I could die in the birthing bed. _You should have waited a little longer to marry off your daughter, Lord Tywin; she could still be Queen if I fail._

It was a horrifying image to allude to -dying in a pool of blood whilst trying to give life, but wasn't that the woman's curse? I don't know why they call it a curse. Women carry men, lords, kings, _life_ , history and the future in their wombs -who took a look at them and decided that it was men who got to rule? Aye, men can wield swords, start and end wars but that was only because they were nurtured to do so. What else could men possibly have in their nature that made them any stronger than us? Was it not a testament to my very strength that I could carry this child and have it feed off me? That I could hold my tongue when my husband dishonoured me so publicly? That I could take it, being forced to use my mouth on him at night now that I was growing uncomfortable with pregnancy? I say no to one thing, show defiance in one way, and Robert's world and resolve to stay calm crumbles. The world should decide on what version of weakness they deem unfit to rule.

My calfs ached from sitting still too long, so I eventually decided that if a walk could not soothe me then I had little hope of anything else doing so. After the initial bleeding everyone had worried and fussed over whether this would be a bedridden pregnancy as they thought it might be a sign of a weak womb -but Maester Pycelle had said that it was normal to bleed early in a pregnancy and had actually suggested that I walk when it suited me best. I believe it was the only thing that had ever come out of that man's mouth that didn't make me want to slap him with that loud chain of his.

Since our day at the docks and the subsequent walk to the orphanage the day after I felt more at ease in Ser Jaime's company -especially when I realised that he was the only one of the Kingsguard to speak to me like he wasn't sworn to my husband. Ser Barristan was kind too, but he was far more courteous and his eyes a dark shade of sad, and I myself felt sad whenever I knew those eyes were trained on me. And so I was relieved when at some point during my walk to the gardens it was Jaime Lannister's shadow that followed mine even though I still had no wish to be spoken to.

They were only children. Born to the man who took Robert's beloved and grandchildren to the Mad King, but children all the same. It felt disgusting that Robert didn't even think it was a necessary evil -it made him happy, it made him proud. That was the man that lay in my bed, the man who touched me at night thought those deaths were not a tragedy of war. His eyes -the eyes our child would inherit, did not cast themselves down with any shame or regret at the mention of them. Robert was tough and volatile; he had always been so, and his uncensored affection was a redeeming quality, but his hatred for the Targaryens was getting harder and harder to overlook. If Rhaegar Targaryen had never kidnapped Lyanna Stark would Robert still bow down to them? Would he have ever even uttered a word of complaint? I was finding it harder and harder to think so.

I finally found a terrace open enough to let me exhale. It was no good to be so upset, so angry not only for my 'marriage' but for the child that lay in the crossfire as well. I had grown bolder, the Baratheon seed inside me seeped through my veins as and I let it out into the open air around me trying to find the calm. But he had pushed too far and too hard, and I could not erase the image of pale bodies and a woman split in half. Ser Jaime stood silently, still behind me and unaware of the whirl of thoughts that haunted me.

"Does it not bother you?" It left me just as I was thinking it. My arms were too tired to try and push the words back into me. _You were sworn to protect them too._

When I turned around the knight wore his confusion openly with a raised eyebrow.

"The Princess and her children. Not a year ago they lived here." Realisation slowly dawned sorrowfully on his face, but he hid it well enough for a man so young. He lowered his head, and before it could become clear that he wasn't about to answer I interjected.

"Never mind. It was a stupid question." I said quickly trying to erase my subpoena for honesty in this wretched city.

"You think it brings me any joy?" He answered quietly, eyes still on the dusty ground. "I held little Rhaenys. The Princess once had me soothe Aegon when she was too unwell to carry him herself. Do you think that all of that washes over me? You think I don't see Rhaegar's face when I close my eyes?" His voice was growing with a bitter rage at the door that I had been eager to open. I wasn't sure where his rage lied, with Rheegar and Robert for starting all of this? With me for replacing them? With his father for giving the order? Or with himself for failing them? "Perhaps I should have let the city burn. Maybe then I wouldn't see him, or them."

"Let the city burn?" I questioned, the term suddenly piquing my suspicion.

"Never mind." He smiled, bitterly still, and his placid exterior took its rightful place once more.

What right did I have to question the justice they were not given when there were others, others like Ser Jaime, who laid stake with them. Others that actually knew and mourned them.

"You can talk about them, if you wish." I tried to erase the sympathy from my voice.

If he were to speak of them with anything akin to sorrow or fondness in front of Robert I wasn't sure whether he'd send him to the Wall or to the dungeons, but I would not tell, and a part of me desperately wanted to hear more about them as well as relieve some of the pain those impossible green eyes tried to hide. I wanted to know about the people whose lives were stolen from them, whose home we dwelt in, perhaps then I would find some honour in all of it. Perhaps then I could sleep at night without thinking of Robert smiling over bloodied corpses.

"I don't wish." He threw back evenly.

"Please." I plead him, perhaps if he thought it was more for me than for him he'd agree.

It seemed to work as he gulped down visibly and approached my side hesitantly. The golden man placed his elbows on the railings mine already rested on and faced the ships on the bay. The dimming light kissed his chiseled face, making him seem even sadder than he would make visible. I finally regarded him fully and realised why maidens and the smallfolk alike fawned over him so freely even though they knew him as Kingslayer -he looked like a God, mighty and golden and plagued with a secret us mere mortals can not uncover. I didn't realise how long I had been taking him in until he spoke once more, eyes still on the horizon.

"Rhaenys...she had a black cat. Balerion. A lively thing, and like her he would never stay put in one place." I was glad that a smile ghosted him at his recollection, and that he was still capable of remembering them when they were happy instead of when they were battered, dead and forced to be forgotten. "I remember thinking that this couldn't be what a Kingsguard's duty was while I watched her chase the cat through the gardens much like my younger brother would. She was hardly ever without him."

I almost smiled at the idea of a young girl waddling through these gardens instead of a sad Queen who did not belong there.

"What happened to him?" I asked, wanting more.

"Who?" _Did he think I meant his brother?_

"Balerion."

"The dragon or the cat?"

"The cat." _I know what happened to the dragon._

"I don't know, your Grace...I don't know." There was nothing I could add, so I remained silence instead, allowing his own admissions to build inside him. For the first time I wondered what Ser Jaime thought of me for asking so much of him.

"You think i'm a monster, for Aerys." He finally faced me to direct his unnerving and yet vulnerable question. It seemed that I didn't have to wonder after all. "Don't you?"

"No, I don't think you're a monster, Ser Jaime." Even though I never called him Kingslayer and always by 'Ser Jaime' it felt different as it rolled off my tongue and to have him hear it. It was like an admission of sorts, like a call, like a pledge of safety and loyalty. "I don't blame you for Aerys. It might be the only thing that Robert and I agree on."

He sighed out loud, and we did not bother each other with any more words as we watched the sun set over the uncommitted ships that sparsely lined the bay.

One of Robert's squires encountered us, Ser Jaime now walking behind me, as we reentered the keep to tell me that the King wished to have his dinner quietly in his chambers tonight, and my presence would be " _greatly desired_ ".

By the time the night settled I stood before Robert's door -and I realised that we had been married nine moons and I had only ever been to his door once before. This was in fact the first time I had set foot in my husband's chambers.

Ser Barristan opened the doors graciously for me and I entered into the Royal chamber that was surprisingly the same size as my own. Robert was already standing, could he have been waiting for me? I stood too awkward and out of place in his room to think so.

"Come on then, sit down." He sounded normal, almost forced, and he pulled my chair out for me when I went to wordlessly sit even though he rarely ever had before.

"Would you like some wine?" He said unknowingly as he poured some into his goblet, as if the last time we had spoken was not filled to the brim with resentment. I could only look at him in awe at how easy it was for him to disregard me, even the hurtful parts of me, was I that invisible to him? A red hot flush rushed to my eyes and my head could only fall with resignation. I kept my eyes trained on the hand I had splayed on top of the tablecloth as I choked up my upcoming words.

"Why do you keep insulting me?" I didn't look up, but I heard Robert's goblet come back down onto the table -though not as forcefully as I expected it to. My vision could only show me the hand he also had on the table, and the fist he made at my comment quickly pulsed into itself like there was a breathing animal inside of it.

"Helaena, i'm sorry." I looked up at the empty gentle words, and there was a tired sincerity in his eyes that only humiliated me further. My cheeks burned.

He was sorry for today, and he wanted to appease me. _I don't just want sorry for today. I want a sorry for yesterday, and for everyday since our wedding that you treated me like I was never the girl you used to play with._

"You don't have to love me, Robert. You don't even have to like me. But what have I done to warrant all of this?" I let it out, small in the most shameful way. My father, my brother, they wouldn't be proud if they could see the storm I had just hid away while I plead. Yet I still continued. "I would be fine if you never spoke to me -if you would only come to my bed to use me. I would prefer that to this. To you hating me. _You_ chose me, Robert. Not the other way around." Tears were escaping my already stung eyes now, and not even Robert's tired look could stop them. He didn't want to sit through this, he didn't want to hear any of this -that was Jon Arryn's job now wasn't it? But still I pushed through my tears, determined to make him feel something, to make him feel his own words and the unsaid promises he had made me believe in. _We're family. We're going to be a family._

"You said I was your blood, don't you remember? You were my family. You and Renly and even Stannis, you're all I have left. We used to play together, and you took me for my first ride, do you remember that? And...and when my mother died you all came to Estermont. And your mother -she would come to my room at night and hold me while I wept until I had learned to stop. You made me smile those days, why can't you remember?" I begged and my spilling tears washed away the shame.

"Why is it that the only thing you remember is that I am here where she is not? I have lost just as much as you, Robert. Why are you entitled to inflict such pain on those who have done nothing to cause it?"

It was silent, I could hear the candle between us wisp as it battled with the night air. He didn't say anything for a while but eventually, after those striking eyes shut tightly for a long moment, he reached his hand over and placed it over mine, warm and born out of...I don't know, sympathy? Apology? Disappointment?

"I don't hate you, Helaena." He winced when he said my name, and I automatically imagined the bitterness that I insisted he must have felt at that, at having to explain himself or acknowledge me, even as he said those words to me.

"I can live with that." I suppose that was enough. That would have to be enough.

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 **Please review.**


	7. The Father's Glory

**A/N:** **Thank you all for the favourites/follows and especially the reviews -like I said before, they keep me going x**

 **I'll admit when I first started this fanfic I basically had in mind someone that'd hate Robert as much as Cersei did but as soon as I got down to it I realised that that wouldn't be the _exact_ case for this and that there would be many lingering complexities I want to address -which is why i'm taking my time with it. There's still so much between them (and within the OC herself) that is left to be explored, and i'm glad all of you get to stick around for the journey!**

 **Warning for some language (but this is M anyway). Enjoy!**

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Sitting. That was all I did. It was all I _could_ do. Sitting in my room, at the table, in the garden, i'm surprised I don't have anyone walking for me yet -though I suppose the prospect of having to carry someone as heavy as I am is not exactly appetising even if it was the Queen. It was my one true grievance when it came to this pregnancy, the ache and swelling of my ankles, bar everything else that made the situation less than ideal, of course. At least it wasn't my wrists that were swelling -my ankles always hid safely under a dress, and I thanked the gods that my breasts had not grown exponentially with my change. I didn't need _any_ more comments about my _parts_ around court -though I didn't doubt that if court didn't have my breasts to talk about they'd talk about my ears for all they cared.

That was another thing that came with pregnancy; with a _royal_ pregnancy, all the talk and speculation and _gifts_. Gods, the child was not even born yet -not even in the clear from what terrors my womb could still pose on it, and everything short of a personalised and an official betrothal had been made.

"It'll be a boy, I know it. Baratheons and Estermonts breed lots of them." Robert said once with his hand on my belly. I was no Maester, not by a long shot, but it seemed almost laughable that that was an expectation of someone's bloodline. Girls were no curse, boys were no blessing, you either have them or you don't -it couldn't be up to the Mother to choose _for_ you. How well would she have to know you to judge you accordingly? What does she know of me, I wonder. Am I deserving? What do I deserve, oh merciful and wise mother? Should I be blessed with a prince -a sacrificial lamb I could give to the council to finally earn something other than their ire? Or should you bless me with a girl -a princess to whom I could impart no knowledge to, a beautiful portrait I'd have to watch go through the agonising circles I was forced into? _What was true mercy to you, Mother?_

I sat in the same gazebo I had found solace in distinctly surrounded by my ladies in waiting -almost like a maidensguard. I snickered at the thought of the squeamish ladies defending me from harm. Perhaps they were not meant to guard me from any harm, judging from the way they snagged to my tailbone and followed me around anywhere -even sleeping around me some nights, one would think they were guarding my chastity, afraid a sinister shadow would sneak into me at night and my child would be birthed a monster; an evil dwarf that would not see the light of this world longer than a day. That thought did not make me snicker, but it instead turned my eyes to where Jaime Lannister stood guard right outside the gazebo.

His own brother was born a dwarf, but from what I could tell Ser Jaime seemed fond of him whenever he told me of the little mischiefs they got up to together at Casterly Rock. I held a strange kind of admiration for the restraint Ser Jaime had -I know more than anything how delicious resentment tastes once it hits your tongue, and sometimes the bitterness is the only thing strong enough to fuel us along. It was all too easy to hate his Tyrion, all too easy to throw the pain of losing his mother onto someone who could not and never would defend himself for it, especially since Ser Jaime was little older than Renly when it had happened. And even though my usual moral compass would point out that all Ser Jaime had done was the _decent_ thing, the _good_ thing, the thing that should be expected of him once he knew logic, I still admired his unwavering support for his brother.

Ser Jaime was always so passive, so uninvolved with regard to anything outside of the only art he prized -so the revelation of his having another point of interest was somehow relieving. I had thought that it was impossible for someone not to care for anything, more out of desperation since I felt that perhaps that was the route I was beginning to take. But if there was hope for Ser Jaime, maybe there was hope for me as well.

The maidens around me sat sewing delicate pillows or blankets of fierce stags, which I daresay I had had quite enough of. Where were the sigils to my house? Everything was black and gold. I suppose green was not pretty enough for their silly little embroideries. And i'd venture to guess that a turtle was hardly the show of strength that everyone expected from their King's son.

Being incurably bored meant that I had plenty of time to observe the beautiful ladies in waiting when they were so _obviously_ not paying their full attentions to me. It was hard to sometimes remember that Ser Jaime was my age -and that we were both still, in comparison to the old crones on the council, very young. I couldn't decide which one of us seemed the oldest. I suppose both of us seem sagged with the life we were now sworn to -and it was not like Ser Jaime had much variation awaiting him. But then again, neither did I. Nevertheless, regardless of how old I _felt_ and how stoic he seemed when his arrogance was not put to use, he was quite the sight to behold. My ladies in waiting surely seemed to think so. I sighed, green girls always want what they can't have. Oh what I would _give_ for what I can't have -for what I so long for; a long ride on a wild mare, a day at sea, the _freedom_ of the salt of the earth. To feel at home, that was what I longed for.

The gazebo was stifling now, partly from the heat and partly in my opinion due to the rise the golden knight was unwittingly given the naïve maidens at my side. And it was quickly wearing thin on me, a woman too uncomfortable to even sit in her own skin too long.

"Ser Jaime, walk with me." I was not accustomed to giving orders -but asking for a walk could hardly be considered a haughty demand, could it?

I stood up unsteadily, and Mace Tyrell's sister Mina as well as some other fair maidens dropped their embroidery to help me walk all of two steps to my chosen knight.

"Don't any of you follow me!" I said sternly as I barely turned, my belly being too large to allow such a sharp turn. My dramatics had to unfortunately be compromised for my comfort. Ser Jaime merely did a bad job of suppressing his smug grin at my new antics.

New, perhaps, but also definitely temporary -I hope. It was one thing to tolerate a pregnant angry woman -it was another entirely for the court to have an angry Queen to whisper about. Another symptom of the wonderful and mystical process of pregnancy was my even shorter temper -from which I surprisingly spared no one from. If I didn't know any better i'd say I was starting to sound like Robert -and I giggled at the thought of Robert perhaps being pregnant all this time. That would explain so much. Or perhaps this was a symptom of Robert himself, maybe our child would be just as raucous as my husband and I got to absorb it for now until he or she is born.

The self-satisfied Kingsguard extended his arm to me and I lay my own on top of it, resting some of my added weight on it in the process. We walked towards the solitude of the shrubbery, and I couldn't help but feel grateful for the relief of Ser Jaime's company; of any company that was not as stagnant as it was with those _maidensguard_.

"Are you well today, your Grace?" He asked me with a surprising hint of joviality to his voice, but I still had no room left in me for masking my sentiments -I rarely ever did these days. And I certainly never hid from Ser Jaime.

"Heavy. Only heavy." I sighed exasperatingly, and I spotted his smile twitch from the corner of my eye.

"My Queen is radiant." _Your Queen, how courteous of you, Ser._

"Your Queen is huge. I'm _actually_ waddling." I pointed out as I motioned for him to lower his gaze to my footsteps -still thankful that my swollen ankles were covered.

"Yes but it's such a _poised_ waddle, your Grace." A sharp laugh left me at that -which i'm afraid even Ser Jaime could not claim was very graceful.

I looped my arm through his, enjoying the subtle shake of his armour as he himself chuckled. It was nice to not be so angry or stifled. Some of the other Kingsguard had also grown to be a welcome respite from the expectations of a pregnant Queen. Ser Barristan -The Bold he was, but the kindest as well. He would take me to the orphanage whenever I so wished, and after some time Robert had stopped expecting for his Lord Commander to take his leave whenever I was in need of him.

Robert's company was still elusive to me in my state. We did not share a bed anymore, and I wondered often whether I was truly horrible for being grateful for that. He would walk with me some days, we would play cards and he'd sometimes even tell me what was going on in those long meetings he so hates -he was trying. But it was all too little and I was far too tired to bridge the distance even further. I may have displayed my anger, my discomfort or my contradicting emotions to him when it came to normal, day to day things, but I still took whatever he gave me with no complaints and I almost felt pity towards him when he flashed me that oh so rare apologetic smile of his.

There were no apologetic smiles here, with Ser Jaime. There were mostly only quips, complaints, laughter and the occasional somber conversation -the sort of conversation highborns like us could hardly ever have with anyone. We spoke freely, now and before, from topics pertaining to the ghosts left behind in this castle to my obviously ungracious waddle.

Ser Jaime made another joke about a Stokeworth lady's upturned nose whenever figs were to be had at the table and while my grip tightened as a result of my sudden bark of laughter it remained tight for a moment too long as I felt a low pinch around my abdomen. I thought nothing of it initially until only seconds later the pain tore through me violently, like a part of me was being pulled down, and my knees nearly buckled as I groaned.

"Your Grace!" He yelled hurriedly with no true purpose as he knotted his brows at my sudden outburst. Were it not for his steady weight I would have fallen to the ground as another surge of pain burnt through me -this time up and down my spine like an unrelenting tide in a storm. _It hurts, it hurts so much._

"It's-it's happening-owww Jaime!" I yelped, the plead lost in my throat as I struggled to form whatever words I could find in the midst of the unrelenting spasm.

My eyes were closed shut as a cold sweat began to form over my complexion -but I did not care, nothing mattered, I was invisible and not myself. The pain had pushed me out of myself.

The next thing I knew my sagged knees were lifted over Ser Jaime's arms and he lifted me, _heavy withchild me,_ and rushed in a direction I could not yet discern -all I could make out was his uneven breath blow to the wind and my scalp.

I was rushed to a room -I couldn't even tell if it was my own or not through the blurring pain, and Grand Maester Pycelle was there, sagging throat and all, after only several hollers from Ser Jaime and another guard whose name I couldn't make out, awaiting the labour to commence -just as I was sure the rest of the council was.

The room was cleared except for the midwife and Pycelle, and I was in such a flurry that I hadn't even noticed when it was that everyone left. My attention only strayed from the undeniable torment ripping through me when a loud knock sounded at the door.

"The King is here!" Came from the King's voice himself. I knew that voice, he was rushed and angry.

 _You're angry? I'm about to birth a whole child out of my cunt you stupid, stupid brute!_

Both the midwife and the maester's eyes widened at the connotation of his being here, but as the tempest further brewed within me I had finally found my voice once more to answer.

"Stay out!" I yelled in hurriedly, trying to swallow down the scream that was threatening to leave me as the pressure built in my lower region.

"Helaena!" There it was, my name, said just the way I remembered him calling it when he thought he lost me once in the woods near Greenstone.

"I swear to The Seven Robert if you set foot in this chamber i'll have all the whores in King's Landing sent to the Silent Sisters and all the wine dropped into the bay!" I shrieked nearly animalistically as another ripe contraction scorched an outbreak of strain in my lower region.

Silence ensued. Well, silence besides my wails.

 _What have you done to me, Robert? What have you put inside me? After this, you're never to touch me again -I swear it, the Kingdom be damned!_

This was the woman's curse; not the pregnancy, not the bleeding or the belligerent fate the men we are tied to condemn us to, it was this. Nothing but this. This testament to pain -the new, the old, burning holes in every muscle I had. It was a singular pain, a pain I knew I would never feel outside of the birthing chamber -it was the kind of pain that made me feel so utterly alone in the world. All I had was myself and the babe I was trying to save, I had no mother to reassure me and no husband to do anything that would help even if he wanted to. There was nothing anyone could do; nothing could be done outside of my pushes and my large gulps of breath -it was all up to me.

It seemed so infinite, so overpowering, that I barely even registered when it came to an end. And then suddenly, I was not so alone anymore.

"A girl, your Grace."

I had no thoughts, I was so out of myself with the pain that I did not know who I was left with when it had faded. Almost numb, I reached out for the babe -for the thing that this had all been for, and like wildfire when they placed her in my arms her life returned my own to me.

It seems my eyes had won out over something Baratheon after all -even though her hair was undeniably jet black, and most unlikely to change. But still, the slight pale green tinge that lined the blue of her eyes was enough for me -it was _something_. Maybe I was stronger than I looked, maybe the stuff I was made of was stronger than even Robert would expect.

People rushed around me -cleaning, cutting, I didn't care. It was nightfall already, but I could hardly notice. This was the true break of day for me -this was my true start. Nothing mattered, the world was full of ash except for the little water nymph I held in my hands. She was mine, _ours_ , I had made something and it was beautiful -priceless. She wasn't what the council and the kingdom wanted or expected, I presumed, but boy or girl she was beyond anything I could have imagined. Her lids were closed now, and I held her close to my breast and hoped she would know what her mother smelled like.

 _Mother. I am a mother now, undeniably._

I was so consumed, in awe of what had just occurred and in my own thoughts that I completely missed the heavy steps that I would have recognised anywhere enter what I now knew to be my chambers.

Robert was looking at the sight I, _we_ , must have been before him with something akin to unsettling awe. And yet in spite of the large gulp stuck in his throat, he approached us until he had reached the bed, upon which he sat near enough to see both me and the babe clearly -still careful not to touch either one of us.

He smiled, and it was far smaller and unsure than the easy confident ones that I and the rest of the court knew.

"I'm under the assumption that your promise is now obsolete." He said almost wryly, and I initially didn't know what in the Seven Hells he was talking about, or _why_ that was the first thing he thought to say when I had just given birth to our first child until I recalled making some sort of threat in the thralls of birth. Was I that much of a disappointment to him?

Nevertheless, I smiled back at him encouragingly in spite of the exhaustion I felt at the prospect of dancing on eggshells and thinking of our marriage even after coming so fresh out of labor.

"What should we name her?" I had to ask, but I felt like I wouldn't be able to hear an answer as my mind thumped in hyper alarm at the prospect that I so feared.

 _Don't say Lyanna. Please don't say Lyanna. I don't think I could handle it. Not now, not while i've bled and died on this bed for this babe. Don't break me, Robert._

"I...I don't know. I don't think i've properly thought about it." I felt relief even though he could offer me no help.

"Oh." _Do we really matter that little to you?_

"What would you like to name her?" The question surprised me, and what surprised me even further was that throughout the entire eight moons that I had known of my pregnancy and impending child I had not once, not seriously, considered any names for a future prince or princess.

"Me?" I assumed, I was _certain_ , that the King would name his child -that he would be the one to choose. But perhaps this wasn't the child he wanted either -regardless of whether it was a boy or a girl.

"Well, you _are_ her mother." He smiled tenderly down at the babe whose warmth I shared, and I nearly pinched myself for my earlier thought.

This was unfair. I was being unfair to him. I had to be the one to think for the both of us -he's probably overwhelmed as well. It wouldn't do us nor our marriage any good to hurt each other in what I would dare call a defining moment. A father was meeting his daughter for the first time -we were a family for the first time.

"Yes, but daughters always belong to their fathers." I was trying to be lively, but I swallowed thickly at the thought of my own father in that moment and how I had belonged to him all his life.

"Right now, I think, she belongs to the both of us." He said as his large fingers, the same ones he had used to swing his hammer into Rhaegar Targaryen's chest, grazed gently over the babe's forehead, causing her to squirm away slightly -but not enough to discourage her smiling father. My heart fluttered slightly with unmissable pride. It was small, but it was something.

I thought of a name that would perhaps honour the both of us. Strong like my aunt Cassana, and undeniably stormy enough for the both of us.

"Cleora."

He raised his chin to the sound of it.

"Cleora Baratheon. It sounds strong." He said, nodding affirmatively in the process.

"It means father's glory in the old tongue of the Storm Kings" I informed him, looking utterly pleased and bemused at myself for thinking of such a smart name on such short notice. "I think it's fitting for a princess, especially one with such a father."

Robert's gaze softened noticeably at the easy statement, and I once again focused my eyes into his trying to figure just what he was thinking when he looked at me.

He surprised me by pressing an unexplained kiss to my temple. Robert's lips had been on several parts of me, but never on my temple, never so softly or seriously -never like I was the true object of his directed affection.

"Thank you." He breathed out, his voice full of an emotion I had never heard before.

"For this, for our girl." He brought his lips further down to press a kiss to Cleora's forehead, his trimmed beard gently tickling the babe's face. My heart warmed, and I felt silly for it especially after everything he had put me through, but it felt like family. It felt like home. I was happy that Robert had finally found something to be proud of within our marriage, within me as well -however stupid and naive it may have sounded. Perhaps now things could start to truly change. Perhaps when he sees our own girl dwell within these walls and grow in his own arms he could finally begin choosing the living over the dead.

"Do you want to hold her?" I asked in response to the growing sentiment stemming from him and the pull to my heart.

"Are you sure?" Robert knew a great deal many things -and I never doubted them whenever he took it upon himself to drunkenly list them to me, but I gather that i'm not wrong in doubting that carrying a newborn was within his expertise.

"Better you hold her now. I want her to remember your smell." His head snapped back up at me -I didn't even realise how entranced he was by her, and his eyes were full to the brim with softness.

 _She's yours too, Robert. She's yours to have and to hold._

He held her far more delicately than he held me or Renly in his arms, and before long his confidence, that never failing Baratheon confidence, allowed him to stand up and walk in circles within the room -within the realm that our new princess was thus far allowed to explore.

"I'm going to teach you how to fight. I'll teach how to be strong." He whispered to her closed eyes.

"Are you saying she won't learn that from me?" His laughter boomed like thunder. And though I had never been one for loudness, there had scarce ever been a sound I was more eager to hear.

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 **Please, I would like to know your thoughts.**


	8. The Maiden's Ghost

The day of the long awaited tourney had finally come, and even I was a little excited at the thought of the celebration.

Of course, the Master of Coin had still tried to advise against it. I didn't even need to _hear_ why, I knew very well of the attitude that i'm sure Tywin Lannister was not alone in sharing. Cleora was born, a full storm and undeniably of the King, but she was still a princess and not a prince -not an _heir_. And so, in many eyes, she may not have been worthy of an entire celebratory tourney. But there was no stopping Robert, who I had scarcely ever seen that prideful about anything other than the battles he had partaken in.

The first day we presented her to court I barely even held her; Robert carried Cleora in the crook of his elbow as he marched into the throne room. Some might have said that it was uncommon for a King to present his babe in such a way -it was uncommon enough for a Queen to carry her child as I did mine instead of having a nurse do it, but mayhaps the court was finally coming to understand how little convention Robert applied to being King. Everyone bowed down to him -to a daughter of mine in his arms. The mighty, the strong, the cunning, all down on one knee for something _I_ had made. He even let me sit on his chair -which wasn't exactly the best choice for a woman still so fresh from birth.

"What do my subjects present to the princess stag?" He boomed, still standing, and high lords rushed to his address and proclaimed what a beauty our daughter was even though she was barely visible in the bundle of her green robes.

We had argued about those very same robes, Robert and I. I hadn't expected much from Robert -certainly not his attentiveness to the _strangest_ things that pertained to our child. He never awoke to tend to her, he complained when she cried, he handed her right to me when she had wet herself -but he minded a great deal what toys she was allowed into her crib and what clothes she'd be dressed in.

" _Black and gold. Why not black and gold?"_ He had asked the day before.

 _"She'll wear enough of that when she's older. And besides, black is too morbid on a babe. The green will make her eyes stand out." I answered as I swept my thumb over Cleora's brow._

Robert merely rolled his eyes, but he let me have it. There were less and less things that Robert was "letting" me have -my permission from him grew less necessary by the day, and I couldn't help but wonder that maybe the eyes my daughter had inherited was a sign that I was not as weak as everyone took me.

The best part of having a tourney, greater than realising how adoring Robert was of something I had given him, was the fact that some long missed faces would return for the celebrations.

Stannis had come first, of course. He arrived the day after Cleora's birth bearing a proud hawk in a cage.

"It'll grow strong by the time the princess is old enough to name it, your Grace." It came out of him evenly. And even though he didn't call me 'sister' this time, I still fed off the warmth of the gesture.

Stannis's wife joined him not long after, announcing that she would stay for the upcoming tourney, although I could already tell that a proud lioness like herself had already grown tired and pale from the shores of Dragonstone. I had to admit -never to Cersei of course, that Dragonstone had a certain charm that only few would understand. And so it came to no surprise that the child of the setting sun would find its appeal slightly...less obvious.

But the true awaiting glory, the true joy, came when the ship from Storm's End finally docked in King's Landing.

He had grown so much, he grew stronger and slightly quieter -but he was still my Renly. He held me for what felt like an hour when he got to me in the keep and I felt his breath grow heavy as his heart beat against my middle. When I lifted his head up to face him I caught sight of the fresh tears that barely stained his cheeks, and though his tears were always a sight too precious to be witnessed I felt a small relief that he was still my Renly and Storm's End had not completely changed him -not in the way that Robert would have probably hoped.

"Strong boys like you don't cry." I whispered as I bent to my knees to face him, wiping the saltwater off of him in the process.

His attention then turned to the crib where Cleora lay in an awe that I could hardly even describe. Renly was the only babe Robert had known for so long, and Renly had gotten used to being so. So watching another little Baratheon squirm in her crib was surely a sight to behold for the little Lord.

"I'm her uncle?" He breathed, eyes vast and boring into the the hybrid of my daughter's.

"Yes, you are."

"I'm bigger than her." Renly noticed. He truly was Robert's brother if anyone had ever doubted it before.

"Yes, she's still quite small isn't she?" I responded almost cooing down into the crib, still unable to have my fill of her.

Renly nodded quick and fast, and in as deep a thought as a boy his age could be in.

"But she'll grow in time-" I tried to add before Renly thought's resurfaced to words once more.

"But i'll still be bigger."

"Always." I smiled. He had a tendency of making me do that. "So, as her uncle, it is up to you to take care of your new niece. You'll do that, won't you?" _Just like a big brother. Just like my big brother had always taken care of me._

"What do you mean, take care of her?" He questioned once more looking back and forth between me and the object of our discussion.

"Well...you'll keep her safe whenever she is with you I suppose."

"So I should join the Kingsguard? So I can protect you both?" I wanted to laugh, and I was almost going to, but the thought of this sweetling growing discouraged and straight into the path of the hardened man Robert so what wanted him to be displeased me greatly. He was my Renly, all mine, because he loved so deeply. I supposed he wasn't all that different from Robert in that sense, but it manifested itself in a distinctive way to his elder brother's and it never grew to my ire as Robert's did.

"Not quiet, my sweet boy. Not quiet. How I have missed you Renly." It was the truest thing I had ever said. And as he fell back into my arms, I couldn't help but think that perhaps Cleora was born a girl because I already had a prince, a perfect prince that no other Kingdom could wish for, and no other mother would be lucky to have by her.

The lists were rushed to be filled. It was the first grand tourney to be held since the war and many a knight craved the satisfaction of being fawned over. How women were perceived as the vainer sex, I still did not know.

High lords from all ends of the Kingdoms gathered in a moon of celebration and merriment all for my and Robert's little princess. It was perhaps one of the rarest instances in which being a Queen had its perks.

Many people had come to honour us -Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden, Lord Tywin's brothers -Kevan, Tygett and Gerion, Lord Hoster Tully with his son Edmure, but there was one arrival that was most noted and anticipated by my husband, his Grace.

Lord Stark made his way down from Winterfell with his younger brother, Benjen, who looked so alike and yet so different from the new Warden of the North. Benjen was still young, still too early in his youth, and yet he looked hard and sealed off from the rest of what people allowed to touch them. His smile was easy enough and he was always kind, but he was sad. Not sadder than his brother, maybe, but Benjen had less to live for and lose by letting his melancholy seep through.

Neither of the Northmen entered the lists. The Starks are far too humble a house to crave such attentions. And it was not as if the lists were not already full to the brim. Besides all the lords and knights that wanted to prance before their King in their shiny new armour the lists also indicated that they would be joined -and put up against, many members of the Kingsguard. And, apparently, Robert himself.

He insisted on competing -I would have guessed that fighting a war would keep a man away from unwonted activities, but not my husband. My husband was not most men -or so he kept trying to prove.

 _"Have you lost your mind?"_

 _"It's my daughter's tourney! Seven be damned if I can not compete in it!" I shrugged him off, what did he have to prove? Couldn't it be enough just to watch? Was nothing ever enough for him?_

Robert didn't want to be told that there was not a man under his rule that would stand to fight with him -not even his darling Ned. It was the fight that kept Robert alive, and perhaps if all those men yielded out of fear then Robert would not be so sensitive about it -but it wasn't the fear of _Robert_ that kept them back. It was the fear of wounding a King's pride and the wrath that would surely follow. No doubt they had heard of Robert's. It was quite famed, after all, his wrath started an entire war the last time it was so fully provoked.

The crowds cheered and screamed louder than I had ever heard before in my years when the first jousters trotted to the grounds -the men made their bets and the women admired the knights they wanted to give their favours to.

The Lion's helm appeared during the second preliminary joust, and I smiled at his participation. Ser Jaime sat atop his fine white horse, matching his glorious white cloak, and wore his sister's favour on his lance.

After my birthing I remembered the not-too-minimal role Ser Jaime had played in Cleora's birth, and some unknown part of me immediately wished that he had neither seen me in such pain nor witnessed my inhuman screams from the birthing chambers. But then again, Ser Jaime -and the other Kingsguard, had all stood by my bedchamber during whenever it was that my Cleora was conceived. They all heard what went on in there, they heard the grunts and the silence that duty filled the room with. I made Ser Jaime hold her once, and he worried over whether his armour would be too much of a discomfort to the princess. For a man so young and seemingly careless he surely did take his duty seriously. His gaze, the one always so hidden and pointed, softened the longer he stood in silence as my daughter's aura thawed through him. A ghost of a smile floated to his mouth and pushed at his cheeks slightly -but like everything beautiful, it was not meant to last.

The golden knight beat his first opponent, a Royce knight, with terrifying ease in one round and his equally golden sister stood to cheer for him as her husband sat by her side. Stannis didn't look much happier than when I had seen him last, but I didn't really think he'd appear to be even he truly was.

I would have felt the sharp eyes on me -on us, from those who clapped and cheered for my daughter's birth while also blaming me for her not being a boy, but I couldn't find it in me to care. And surprisingly, neither did Robert.

It was distinctly Ser Barristan who insisted he felt no need in participating, and instead he stood handsomely by my box, proudly guarding the new princess for the first time. I insisted on having Renly in my box as well, and when Robert teased him for being such a lady's boy Renly had insisted he was there for the princess's protection. We all laughed, and I smiled even now as Renly grew bored with his intent gaze onto and around Cleora. He instead turned his attention to Ser Barristan, asking him all the questions a little aspiring knight would ask such a fame Kingsguardian, and the man was happy to oblige him -the tourney seemed not to interest him and there were no longing looks of regret for not joining upon him. Ser Barristan was a skilled fighter, a warrior of note -I did not doubt it. And so he didn't look like a man unwilling to lose -he looked like a man with no Queen he wished to crown.

The jousts surmounted to a war of valors, a skirmish of clean cloaks and the occasional bloodied lance. It was strangely beautiful to witness, and Cleora as well seemed to think so as she happily gurgled in my arms. After a while my eyes fell onto the crowd and eyed the passion, the envy, the admiration and the hatred that was being emitted unto those fighting the good fight. My studious gaze finally landed on my new good-sister, and I noted the sneer to the same lips that so readily cheered her brother on whenever someone too unimpressive for the lioness graced the fields. Stannis remained passive, as always, but there were times where his wife's hands would wander to his and he would blink, almost loudly, at the gesture and his fear of not knowing how to react to it.

The last joust came upon us as Cleora grew restless in my arms and I finally reoriented myself away from the madding crowd. It came down to Ser Jaime, my protector, and Robert, my husband -our king. But contrary to what and I everyone expected, it did not end in one swift decisive joust.

I could hear the jeers already, _Kingslayer! Kingslayer!_ right after Ser Jaime charged at Robert on the first run. He missed -but not by his own design. Robert boomed in laughter,

"There might be hope for you yet, Kingslayer!" And he charged at him with the aggression that had been dulled over the recurring jousts of the day.

My hand involuntarily gripped my seat when the contact was near while Renly leant forward over the railing of the box in anticipation. My eyes sealed shut before I could hear a crash that never came.

When my eyes opened, both jousters were still atop their horses -their lances still intact. That would not last for long, as they went on to break six lances against one another, the crowd rising from their seats every time Ser Jaime landed a blow against Robert -but he laughed and raised his fist in defiance every single time.

It took an hour, but when the final joust came I could see the exhaustion seep through both the fighters' slumping shoulders, but they still charged at one another none the less. Victory announced itself with a final scraping noise as the opposing lances went against one another and struggled high -almost like swords at an impasse. It was a moment where all stood still, where everyone stayed quiet -even Cleora, who had been squirming against my chest, calmed in silence to watch the deciding fate of this tourney. Eventually the moment ended when Robert used his weight to pivot the lance in the other direction, sending Ser Jaime straight down his horse and Robert far up on his pedestal.

I breathed out in relief. I think I would have done so regardless of the outcome -it was proving to be quite a long day. But I don't what fate would have befallen Ser Jaime should Robert have lost -and lost to _him_ of all people. The knight's golden haired sister hovered over the railings much like Renly did, worry watering her eyes in the most sincere way, and yet Ser Jaime still picked himself up and bowed lowly to his King. It had nothing to do with me, I know, but I grinned at the gesture, proud that he had come out of it mostly unscathed and still graceful.

Robert raised his fist victoriously as his black horse trotted to the ringmaster's pier. The winning crown overflowed with freshly white tulips and yellow roses in a sea of green, and it dangled pridefully from Robert's lance as he turned his attentions to me and the princess.

He smiled. Initially he was nothing but smiles. But the closer he and that laurel got to where I sat, the more I could see another image grow familiar to him once more -and it was something i'd forgotten to witness since birthing our daughter. He still smiled, but his eyes fell dark with a memory he had all too well remembered to feed his rage. His eyes wore a deep blue, now. Dark. Unforgiving.

I could see the emptiness in those eyes even as he offered the wreath of roses to our own daughter. Lyanna was at the last tourney, and she was the last one that had been crowned. She was the last Queen, and so far she seemed to be the only that mattered to my King.

"Does the princess accept this crown, my Queen?" He never called me his queen, even with the entire court watching, and so I took what I could from him as I reminded myself what Jon Arryn always took the time to remind me of; _Robert is trying._

"She most definitely does, your Grace." I accepted on my daughter's behalf and Renly took the crown in my stead, seeing as my hands were otherwise occupied. The young boy then tried to properly crown my infant daughter, and the crown rightly fell over her head and on to her shoulders, trapping her in a flurry green, white and yellow. The crowd laughed, and the familiar glint in her father's eyes returned from the deep abyss that it had previously fallen into and he swung his head to laugh gloriously. He leaned in closer on his charger as the field's cheers consumed the afternoon air, and he placed a kiss upon Cleora's brow and ruffled little Renly's hair. And for a moment, just a mere moment where all was laughing and none was hurt farther than they offered to be, I truly thought that everything would be fine.

At the consequential feast it was Lord Stark that sat by my side while Robert celebrated loudly in his usual fashion -save for the abundance of groping and extra whores. No, my husband's whores were far more discrete -some would say even vanished, now that he had another girl to think about. Robert raised his goblets time and time again and further into the night he wandered over to the other tables instead of having them approach him, but still Lord Stark sat, silent and definitely knowingly. He tried as best he could to be jovial under Robert's summons, I could see it. But I could also see how little he fit in here -nothing had changed from the first time I met him. I think that was the only thing that Ned Stark and I had in common -that and the fact that we both looked to Robert as kin, but I knew that it would never be a subject to ever bring me and the Northernman any closer.

It was a tiring day -who knew that sitting on your arse just watching others fight would take a toll? I stood to take my leave, the Lords on my left, right and everywhere else in the feasting hall stood with me and bid me a good night. All left me be except for my husband.

He glided over to me -or at least that's how it felt with everyone watching, and swing his muscular arm freely around my waist as he kissed me roughly on the lips with his eyes wide open.

"Kiss the princess good night for me." _You could do it yourself if you chose not to drink yourself to a stupor for tonight._ He sloppily placed his still open mouth upon my cheek in some semblance of a good night kiss. It felt wet and not where it should be. Not at all.

I walked out of the hall trying to shake off the goading shadow that lingered on my cheek from the confusing display. My mind swirled deeper into my thoughts, and only stopped once I had detected golden locks once I had reached the outside of the archway.

"Good evening, your Grace."

"Good evening, Ser Jaime." He bowed but quickly abandoned it as he followed my steps -in turn abandoning his post to escort his queen to Maegor's Holdfast safely.

"Did you enjoy the tourney today?"

"Very much." _Or at least as much as I could after three hours of watching others handle lances and egos._

"You fought well today, i'm sorry you did not get to crown your sister." I continued, discerning after I had said it the unusual tick in his jaw he only seemed to get when Robert called him Kingslayer.

"Your daughter wore her crown beautifully. And besides, how would you be so sure I'd have crowned my sister?" _She was throwing herself over the rails for you, I'd fear for your safety if you'd won and hadn't crowned her._

"Oh I don't doubt that there were many maidens in attendance who would have gladly accepted a crown from you, but you wore your sister's favour -i'm sure it would have crushed her had you named anyone else your Queen of Love and Beauty." He swung his head down in concession -he knew I had guessed, or observed, correctly.

"Oh trust me, she surely would be." He answered with his face quite physically unreadable.

"Nevertheless I hope you are not too sore from your loss, Ser." I teased wishing the evening would give some control over the day's events and I finally saw Ser Jaime's face lifted once more -except that his expression was annoyingly impassive.

"It would not do me any favours to best my King, your Grace." He replied evenly, the meaning beneath it heavy and breathing.

"Are you suggesting you let the King win?" We walked through the archway leading to the Holdfast and the royal apartments as I questioned the knight with not very much suspicion left in me.

He only turned to me and smirked most lavishly, like a luxurious cushion only the mistresses of Aegon the Unworthy would roll in as he dropped chains of gold upon them. It was a strange imagine to conjure up only by one smirk I had been awarded by -but I was nowhere near good enough to let Ser Jaime know that just yet, and so I feigned disappointment.

"My hopes are crushed Ser Jaime -you are a sore loser indeed." His chuckles, though still soft at my humble attempt at humour, filled the empty halls and before I knew it he had successfully escorted me to my rooms. I wished him a good night and sent him off to dream of whatever fair maiden a man as handsome as him would surely by now be lusting after whilst I entered my chamber and relieved my nursemaid of her duty for the night.

I changed swiftly, not caring to cover myself in any robes or comb my hair -all I needed was a shift and to sleep with my daughter next to me.

I had no doubt that Robert would surely concede on the matter of the nursery -not like I would ever address that as a matter to incite compromise. It wasn't right, no matter what he said. No matter how many times we all stood in a throne room where so many had been burnt to death and where a King had been slain it still would never be _right_ for my child to sleep where such gruesomeness had just taken place. I liked to think of it as my first _real_ order of business as Queen -to effectively blockade any and all attempts for my child to know the terrors her father had approved to sit on his throne.

The night air blew breezy and still through my silent chambers until I heard a knock on the door.

I nearly rolled my eyes, thinking that even Robert had to be smart enough to know that it was still too soon. I gave the order to enter regardless of the misconceptions, but was surprised to find that it was not the head of raven black that I had anticipated.

I should have known, for the knock on my door was not as rough or as loud as Robert's was when he even bothered to knock. Instead, though, I was greeted by the now unfamiliar sight of brown hair as soft as mine standing in my doorway.

He had come, my home was here.

I frowned even through my delight and my eyes immediately began to sting at the recollection of waving him off after my own wedding all those moons ago.

"I've just only arrived." The sound carried his voice to him smoothly, and I heard the pleasantness of his voice almost for the first time again.

"You're late." I smiled while as I watched him approach me, footsteps careful and those blue-green eyes now my newest mirror.

"She's beautiful." He pointed out, ignoring my earlier statement. He leaned over us with his hand on one of the bed posters and I looked up at him bathing in Cleora's sleeping form -he was just as entranced as I was when I first witnessed it.

"I've missed you, Andrew." The hand he used to carry his weight over my bed now moved to squeeze my shoulder. I grasped at it almost desperately, nearly smelling the salt on his skin while he moved down even lower to kiss my temple.

"As have I, your Grace."

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 **A/N:** **Well here's another chapter for you guys. I'm considering focusing on other things/stories for the time being since I don't really know if i'm even hitting any nails on the head with this piece. I definitely know where I want to take this story (I have every single chapter planned), but maybe I should take a break or just write whenever it comes to me since I find the lack of response a little troubling. I don't ask for reviews for my ego I just want to know what I can do better or if i'm even doing anything right to begin with. Please tell me what you think.**


	9. Honesty

**A/N:** **Let's start off by saying that this will be a LONG chapter.**

 **Thank you all for your reviews and trust that I have kept them all in mind. I haven't changed the way the rest of the story is planned or how it will progress except this chapter i've added a little something something (I was thinking about it anyway and your reviews just helped me make a decision). I wanted to take this story slow and build up because a) it wouldn't have been realistic for neither Helaena nor Jaime to jump into anything -and despite the similar position Helaena is** ** _not_** **Cersei and I think she wants to believe that Robert could still be better. and b) this story contains a pairing, yes, but it's not JUST about them. I wanted to portray what would have been different in the way things moved along with Helaena as Robert's queen.**

 **Oh and in response to dfggggggggg's review: First of all, at least on that end of the Kingdoms, marriage to an uncle is still considered incest. Even with the Valyrians and the Targaryens sibling-sibling was accepted but marrying daughter-father or even daughter-uncle was considered ill-advised (even _they_ had limits lol). Tywin's hopes for an heir remain the same as they were in the books since there is very little to be done about the Jaime situation -he still only hopes that Jaime abandons the Kingsguard at some point. Stannis is still Prince of Dragonstone at this point and that makes Cersei the Princess of Dragonstone so keep in mind that in Tywin Lannister's head that means that should anything happen to Robert while he still doesn't have an heir then it's Stannis who succeeds him on the throne and Cersei would be Queen (i'm not saying that Tywin is planning anything against Robert i'm just saying that he still hasn't ruled out the possibility that his daughter might still be Queen). But even if she wasn't going to be Queen the possibility still remains that whatever children she ends up having with Stannis are highly likely to be viable options for the crown prince to marry.**

 **So all in all, thank you so much for not only giving me feedback but also for following this story in general -it really means a lot to me that I could give people something that I enjoy receiving :).**

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My eyes are closed, I see nothing but darkness. And yet I feel all the light the world has to offer me. Fair fingertips brushed down my arms and switched to my thighs when they had gotten low enough. I shivered ostensibly even in the strangling heat, and yet the disarming fingers settled into hands on my thighs and moved up my shift sending a round of incredible sparks through my being. It was never like this -it had never been like this before. My mind swirled, frayed at the ends and a whisper of plea left me as the anonymous pair of hands did not halt on their journey up my thighs. A weight suddenly amassed atop me accompanied by a thick, heavy whisper that trickled through my ear drums.

My body, my far too conscious body, moved upwards towards the source of all temptation and I pressed myself unknowingly at whatever I could find. I felt the hardness, the unfamiliar hardness through thick cloth, tease me from above my thin shift until I felt the thin wisp of my shift no more and I was left bare to the wind. My eyes were still closed and those same enticing hands reached their destination of choice; one cupped my breast beneath my shift and the other slid into the folds of my sex.

Sound left me, I couldn't even hear it, the only thing my ears would listen to was the loud thump of my heart beating out of my chest and the blood running hot and thick through my neck as I felt soft-laced kisses climb upon it. The kisses gradually lowered themselves to my neck, to my collarbone, and to my chest where their wetness seeped through the soft linen of my shift and onto my hardened nipple. A stray tongue swirled along my breast, teasing scandalous moans out of me and a nearly begging whine from my waist. It brought me to such a state that I nearly forgot the sole finger stationary in my folds until it began moving through them, spreading me wide and touching a place i'm sure had never been sought after before.

The lips on my breast moved down slowly as the lone finger in my sex coaxed out a wetness that pooled within and around me, and my legs unknowingly spread wider, wanting more, needing more.

" _More. More."_ I whispered, even though it got lost in the air. Just as I was about to chant my cause once more a mouth closed around the secret pebble that only those fingers had dared to touch before and a scream died in my throat at the sudden jolt of pleasure that surged through me.

A pleasure so unfamiliar, so new, so foreign and so _intense_ that my back finally found the strength to jolt me up and finally open my eyes at the bewitching ministrations being played onto me. When my eyes finally flung to witness the pleasure I was feeling I was not met with the black head of hair that I had expected to find -the raven black hair that it was _right_ for me to find. Instead I was met with sunshine for locks, and when the face was lifted from the pleasing torture that was being handed to me the emerald green I encountered was a jeering shock instead of the sapphire blue that I expected to bore back into me.

I woke up with a start, green now etched into the back of my eyes and my hands stuck upon my sacred pleasure. _It was only a dream. It was only a dream._ I breathed out repeatedly until the words lost their meaning.

I should have known it wasn't real. I should have known better than to indulge it. I should have woken up the moment I felt any pleasure. It was not very much like Robert to give me anything but the empty satisfaction that I had pleased a king. Whenever it was quick it was harsh, and whenever it was slow it was mournful and torturous. It was true that I had been granted an all too longed for reprieve from Robert's ' _needs'_ since Cleora's birth -and it was obviously born out of the Maester's recommendation not to add stress to my gentle womb in fear of damaging its ability to host a future heir and not of my own desires. No, any reprieves or perks I may have as Queen are completely by the grace of another. But perhaps this _dream_ was a sign that my body was ready again despite my misgivings? But what else did it mean if it was not Robert in my dreams? I shuddered at the implication and shook the thought away almost aggressively. _It was only a dream._ I repeated for the millionth time that morning. Those golden locks belonged to a friend, to an amiable figure who only gave me the honesty and sometimes laughter that I needed for my own sanity. This figure did not give me...pleasure of any sort. Perhaps the dream was a sort of joke since it depicted the two most least likely people to engage in such acts. A Queen and Kingsguard were both sworn to their King -and they were both sworn to hold none but their duty to their breast.

I washed the remnants of that morning's dream off of me while Cleora still slept in her bassinet and by that time Robert had already entered my chambers to join me for breakfast -an unusual feat in itself that somehow raised my suspicion that my scandalous dream was yet another thing I was not privy to. Not too far into his gorging of our morning meal did he reveal what exactly he required of me on this fine day.

"Jon's back from Dorne." He announced as he leaned back in his chair picking nimbly at his loaf of bread.

"Oh! Any news?" I was glad to heard of Lord Arryn's return, and so I expressed as much with sincerity. I felt his loss at the lonely court and was readily anticipating those same kind pale eyes to land on my daughter. It was strange of me, of course. I didn't know what I was waiting for from him, did I expect him to pat me on the back and tell me what a good job i've done? Or would he, like everyone else at court, be disappointed? _Not him, please not him._

"The council's meeting in a bit to discuss what news my good Lord Hand has brought us all from the Dornish lands." Robert said flapping his hands around in a showy manner accompanied by an accent more fitting to a more _courteous_ nobleman. I giggled, holding a peach to my face as my nose scrunched up in a way i'd always hated and the laughter found its way to him before he proceeded in resumed seriousness.

"I'd like you to be there. Can you manage it?" He was Robert again, and he was asking me, Helaena, to sit on his council meeting. Maybe this is what i'd been waiting for all along. Maybe this was the moment, the one gesture, that would mean more to us than everything else. Maybe things will change the way they should.

"Of course." He only smiled in response to my affirmation -he surely had to know I wouldn't refuse him. Not this, at least. With that and the final loaf of bread swallowed down by him he propped himself off the heavy wooden chair and made his way to Cleora's bassinet.

It was growing less and less funny to me how such a big man could lean down and coo so openly to a babe, but it still brought a smile to my lips whenever I witnessed it. Everything had been thrown up in the air when she came, all the pieces Robert and I were trying to build were now framed in ways neither of us understood and everyone else was just as lost as we were. But one thing was for sure, one thing was truer than all else, Robert loved Cleora with all the pieces he had left. What that left for me, I was not sure -but I was more than sure Jon Arryn would tell me to try.

When the meeting came upon us I walked with Robert to the Tower of Hand, leaving Cleora with her nursemaid. We entered the council meeting room together and everyone else sat in their assigned places waiting for us both.

I hardly noticed Lord Tywin, Stannis, Varys, Pycelle or Ser Barristan rise up on my and Robert's entrance, all I saw was the man standing in front of me with a smile more honest than anything in this thrice damned city combined.

I walked straight to him, waving away his swift bow and gave him my hand as expected while I felt Robert's eyes watch us.

"Your Grace."

"My Lord Hand."

"Forgive me for being away, I should have liked to see the princess presented to court." He clasped his other hand over mine and I found solace in the long missed wrinkles lining his palm.

"You'll have plenty of time to acquaint yourself with the princess, Lord Arryn." I returned, and he nodded his head near bashfully and refocused his eyes onto the remainder of the council in attendance. I witnessed his face mould back into that of the highly respected and well feared lord that everyone else had come to know.

I took my seat by Stannis even though there remained an empty seat by Robert's side -I thought that perhaps Lord Stark would be joining us as well seeing as he was Robert's closest friend and Warden of the North, but he was not there.

I sat in my forgotten silence as the mundane orders of business were passed around by the members of the council, and I eventually resigned the details of the passing news in exchange for the systematic tune of Stannis grinding his teeth. I rarely knew why he did it so, or why such a controlled habit grew to be so loud, but it put me to some sort of ease hearing it. I used to hear it as a girl when I knew him -and it was nearly calming to know that that was one thing that hadn't changed in juxtaposition to everything else.

There was a terrible honesty -an open vulnerability, to the grinding of Stannis's teeth. Everyone saw it as another forceful element of his will -but I saw it as one of the only symptoms of the duty he bore manifest itself in a way even he was unable to control.

While my ears swore fealty to Stannis's grinding my eyes rested solely on Jon Arryn, who sat on the other side of my husband. I wondered what grew in me during his absence that only endeared his aura to me. I felt his absence, almost physically, while he was away in Dorne, and I find myself selfishly praying to some long forgotten gods that he return to us safely. It was for my own sake, I know, but he and Ser Jaime were perhaps the only other adults here that I could even remotely speak to without swallowing a lump down in my throat.

Robert was like a son to him, and I found myself trying incredibly hard to be his daughter by proxy. Perhaps that was another thing that Robert and I had in common -it was another thing we lost and now longed to have.

My hearing drowned out Stannis's grinding once I realised from the way everyone else was sitting in anticipation that the _real_ news Jon Arryn had come back with -the _real_ matter at hand would now be revealed: The Dornish.

Lord Arryn had only just returned from Dorne, but he made peace sound so...viable, even with the open hatred that both sides had for one another. A visit and the return of a dead man's bones couldn't be all there was to peace, could it?

"Something has to be done about the Dornish. They are placated now, but an appeasement must be sent their way and Doran is far too smart to settle for some mere Lord. He'll want a symbol. Something strong enough to show his people that their is some power to be had over the crown." I suppose it wasn't that simple after all. Why did appeasement always have to mean marriage?

"To hells with him! What power do those snakes have over us?" Robert said with a fist to the fine table. I suppressed myself from rolling my eyes so publicly.

"They don't, your grace, but we must give them the illusion of it if we want peace for the Kingdom."

"You wouldn't be saying all of this unless you had a suggestion." Robert replied pointedly as everyone else physically leaned in while my shoulders sagged back. For a moment my throat constricted as the realisation dawned upon me -Renly was of an age with Arianne Martell. Renly was a symbol -brother to the King, brother to the man who caused the Martell princess's 'displacement'. And Renly would not have anything to inherit -Storm's End will be Stannis's once an heir is born while Arianne would inherit her father's place. _Oh, please. Please no. Not Renly. I beg of you._

"Send Benjen Stark to Sunspear and betroth him to Arianne Martell, and soon. I hear the little wolf's planning on taking the Black." I couldn't even hear anything after not hearing Renly's name. I sagged back fully into my chair and moved to wipe the sweat on my brow that had still not yet formed. I couldn't even think about how curious it was for Benjen Stark, still so young, wanting to take join the Night's Watch.

"Have you lost your mind? I'm not sending Ned's brother down there!" My husband roared even louder than before and it gave me some ease that if he was objecting to _this_ then he would have surely objected to Renly's name being called out instead of the little wolf's.

"Doran's daughter is eight years of age and Benjen is four and ten, by the time she is of an age to marry Benjen will be a man grown and more than able to care for himself. Your grace, there is no better option, and Doran is a man of his word. I assure you no harm will come to Benjen as long as he is under Doran's care."

"To hells with Doran, what about everyone else? What about that abominable Red Viper everyone's so afraid of?" I kept quiet as I considered whether this was at all smart on Jon Arryn's part. Would any of Robert's allies or even acquaintances be safe that far south?

"Your grace. Consider this, I urge you. We don't have have-"

"Why him? Why Benjen? Why not Hoster Tully's son? Why not _any_ other nobleman?" He questioned with his head down probably trying to think of how this could even be explained to his best friend. Suddenly the lack of Stark's presence made more sense to me -Jon Arryn was looking to avoid the confrontation.

"Hoster Tully didn't start this war! We were the ones who marched on King's Landing! We're the ones who thanked Tywin Lannister for the slaughter of Dorne's children!" He sighed, tired of what it took to explain what was best for Robert even when he was oblivious to it.

"I have no sons to offer. Any prince Helaena gives you will be too young for the girl by the time she comes of age. Benjen is Ned's younger brother, and Ned already has a son to be the heir of Winterfell. The only other option is Renly, your Grace. He's old enough for the role but still too young a boy. And I fear that not even Doran would accept the brother of the man who had his niece and nephew's corpses presented to him. Would you have him go to Dorne now, Robert?" _Not Renly. Never Renly._

Everyone was silent as they kept their eyes trained on Robert. Nothing could be heard, nothing except my silent will begging Robert to agree if it meant Renly would be reprieved from the prospect. Lord Arryn was right -Benjen was four and ten now. He was able, growing strong and he knew what to expect from the world. Renly was barely even seven, still so little -still so naïve, he would not last. Not as Renly.

Robert's eyes finally found their way to mine and wordlessly, he knew. He cast his eyes down once more before leaning back in his chair with a deep and heavy sigh.

"Gods damn you. He'll never forgive me for this." We all remained silent, still waiting for the answer that was coming.

"Write the letter, Jon."

After that announcement everyone else in the room sagged, though we all did so quite solemnly -no one forgot that a boy was to be sent down to a foreign land where his kind was not so well regarded as of recent.

Everyone was given their leave to resume their duty and eventually Robert stood from his chair which meant that I would be going too. I made to stand and join him by the door until Jon Arryn spoke up directly at me.

"Stay a while my child, it has been long." My smile, the one I thought I lost during the meeting, grew even wider, _have you missed me too?_

"How are you fairing your grace? Are you well?"

"Very. The princess has been keeping my busy but I daresay it's a pleasant distraction." It was easy to speak here, easy with him. And I felt the strain that was growing in me unwind as I flourished in his company once more.

"I'm glad to hear it. I've just received some news -good news, your grace." Good news was certainly not unwonted for these days -any days.

"Oh?" I urged him on, happy to hear whatever may come my way.

"Maester Pycelle tells me that you are... ready once more. To try for an heir." He must have seen my face fall, for his own washed down to stare at the table.

It was a singular sensation -having your hopes crushed time and time again. Perhaps it was King's Landing that truly was the pit of snakes and not Dorne -maybe Benjen was better off there than spending another moment here. I was a mother now; a woman by all counts, and yet how could I be so naïve as to expect that Jon Arryn would ever care for me or see me as anything but Robert's _Queen._ The disappointment shook through me too harshly to even remember my earlier thoughts about my dream or even the small gratitude I felt towards Robert when he asked me to be his partner -his equal. Now all I felt was the humiliation return. I had done my duty, I gave my husband a child, was I not entitled to any more rights to my own body? Cleora is still but a babe, but she would never be enough for them -I would never be enough. I had yet to prove myself, it seemed. And I was about to, just not in the way Lord Arryn was probably anticipating in that moment.

"No." One syllable -but apparently it had to many meanings for Lord Arryn to immediately comprehend.

"I beg your pardon, your grace?" He asked confusedly, his tone rising only slightly. But it didn't scare me -it would not scare me. I was not going to be bullied into opening my legs. No one would dictate to me what I did and did not do with my husband.

"No." I repeated, and he crossed his arms tightly around him with his brows still knitted together in perplexity.

"No?"

"Must I repeat it a third time?"

"Your grace, an heir to the crown is still required and Robert's rule can not be cemented witho-"

"The last time I said it was too soon, you all urged me on to continue. I'm saying it's too soon. Robert will not come back to my bed until I wish it -and I am still not ready." I remembered what I said -did they? I told them it was too soon, that we were all still grieving, and what I got was a man who whispered a dead woman's name in my ear on our wedding night.

"'Your Grace, Grand Maester Pycelle has assured us all that-" _Oh, yes, Grand Master Pycelle says and so Helaena must do!_

"Has he? Tell me, has Pycelle given birth to a child before? I don't need another man to tell me what I do and do not feel, Lord Arryn." And with that I planted my feet firmly into the ground and walked out of the meeting room with a not too gracious thump to the heavy door.

My feet took me to the main wing of the Red Keep, guards switching posts behind me as I exited and entered from each tower until I found my way to the throne room that, for some reason, had Lord Stark standing in it ostensibly alone.

We stood far apart and he made no move to come any closer, but he knelt lonely at my entrance looking suddenly uncomfortable. When he rose back up I could see something else line his brow; discomfort, worry, _anger_ , and I knew then that Robert had told him of what would become of Benjen -and no doubt it was Robert who stormed out this time.

I approached him almost fearfully, motioning that we meet halfway by the windowsill, and we came to one another in silence and both heavy with what was not being said.

"Is there something troubling you, my Lord Stark?" I asked knowing very well at least one of the things that was thus far plaguing his mind.

"I apologise, your grace. I'm not in the business of sending my kin away like livestock." It was sharper than anything i'd heard from him before -or anything i've heard form anyone in court save for Ser Jaime. But once again I appreciated the honesty, and returned the favour in true fashion.

"But you're all too happy trading women as such for alliances?" His cool gaze was suddenly wide and nervous and he turned to face me with his mouth open and his defence ill prepared.

"Your grace, forgive me I did not mean it li-" I interrupted him swiftly -I would not have a wolf suffer on my account.

"Your honour is noble, Lord Stark. But you speak of honour -of duty, what of those that marched in this war? What of those who will rise again to march should nothing be done? Honour _them_ , Ned." I never spoke his name -I did not think myself worthy of it before. But I was Queen. At least, I sounded like one now. And Ned Stark needed to understand what came before everything else. The people made the Kingdoms and a Stark could never be unjust to those he owed himself to.

"Wolves don't belong in the Dornish Marches." _I don't belong here, and yet here I am._ I stayed silent and savoured in the unfamiliar openness -it was a rare occasion indeed and perhaps something i'd never witness again.

"He'll never forgive me." It came out softly the mere tone of it made me hate anyone who had said that northmen were nothing but wild savage rough with the dead soil they were born to. Hard or not, Ned Stark loved his family. He loved his father and brother who perished. He loved his sister who was taken. I could understand that it was difficult to say good bye to the last piece of your broken family you had left. But they were, above all else, _still_ family. As Robert was mine. I thought i'd never forgive Robert for so much, and I still haven't, not truly. But there was room to do so, there was room for us now -that was what me and Cleora counted on, wasn't it?

"Benjen is a Stark. He'll always forgive you." Perhaps it was less than honest of me, but I was queen now. Did any of it really matter?

After that specific encounter I let myself drift to the gardens with the recollection of perhaps the saddest shade of grey I'd ever witnessed haunting me. Maybe that's why Lord Stark and my husband were so close -they held their sadness the same way even if they celebrated their strengths and vices differently.

I was slightly calmed, but angry still. I let a tourney and various lords presenting their luscious gifts get to me -I was not born to a high enough lord father for them to actually respect me. Maybe that's why they chose me -I was an easy target. I had no father any more, and my brother was sworn to Estermont -I had no one to defend me, no one to champion my cause, I had no one but a husband who barely even knew me anymore. I feel empty again, despite the new life my daughter gave me, I only feel empty without her. But I needed to feel it, I needed to fuel it. I was nothing without the fight, without the anger. I was just like Robert, my mirror.

I paced the gardens, the _damned_ gardens, until I got to an empty pier overlooking the bay and sensed the familiar sound of footsteps approaching. He somehow always managed to appear when I was angry; he must think I am only rage. Surprisingly, I remembered that he was probably the last person I wanted to see at the moment considering it was his apparition that gave my day the most jarring beginning.

He stopped some steps behind me. I heard the metal clashing against his armour settle.

"Your grace." I hadn't heard his voice in my dream. Hearing it now only reminded me how easy it was with him as opposed to everyone else. Before I knew it I gasped out the only things I could think of to say.

"Everyone...everything is so loud. Why can't they all just stop?" It didn't make sense even to me, and I still kept my back to the knight ashamed of both my ramblings and of what he would find in my eyes should he look into them.

"You don't have to listen to them." He breathed, as if it were just that simple.

"You know I have to. There is no other choice." I resigned myself to that long ago. From the moment I got the royal summons -I knew I would no longer have a choice. So why was I suddenly desperate when I heard it roll of my own lips?

"Then you're just like the rest of them." I turned to him sharply then, and my hair swung about my waist while my eyes burned at the insult.

"I am _nothing_ like _them_." To which he only shrugged. He was trying to be impassive but I could see his irritation grow plainly -he was disappointed in me. I was a disappointment. Maybe I _am_ like the rest of them.

"There's no point saying you're different. Everyone says that, and they're still the same." He stared me down, begging me to concede -to do _something_ to either prove him right or wrong. I wasn't sure which he preferred at this point. I suppose I could expect that from the son of Tywin Lannister.

"So I am false?" I approached him slowly with my hands on my hips almost as if it were an interrogation. His face only fell back to the cool mask that he wore expertly in everyone else's presence -everyone but I. It was yet another insult to whatever it was that I thought stood proudly between us.

"My Queen is gracious and merciful, and anyone who dares say otherwise will meet the end of my swo-"

"It is _you_ who is false." I cared not of his -or anyone's disappointment any longer. _My name is Helaena. My name is Helaena._ "You're always hiding. You want people to think that you don't care, but you still hide. At least _Robert_ doesn't hide." He looked back at me pointedly, enough to have no need to point his accusing finger at me.

"No, his grace gladly spends the crown's coin on all the whores in the city. He cares not who bears witness. " I could have his head for that. Why don't I want his head for that?

I crossed my arms, acting affronted -if that was what it could even be called. Maybe it would put him in his place if he thought I cared enough.

"So is that where the _mighty_ Tywin Lannister's gold goes? Must be nice to know." His mask broke then, I could see the crack in front of me clearly and the succumbing shards fall out as both his face and his hands fell to his side.

"Why do you insist on keeping me as your lackey?" Is that what he was to me?

"Why do you accept?" I spit back at him with equal amounts of ferocity.

"Do I have a choice?" It was the worst of his insults, I think. The reminder of our differing positions and the fact that he was at my beck and call. Except that he wasn't. I always took care to remind myself just who Jaime Lannister served. And so I decided I would no longer keep him from his main duty, his higher called, and I stepped back in deceptive defeat.

"Far be it from me to keep you, Ser." I walked away calmly. My dark grey dress blew about in the wind and I wished that the golden knight would see my un-lost tears in that same grey.

All I was today was an amalgamation of storming off into the uncared distance from men that I thought I could trust. And so I escaped back to my chambers where any woman could wish she'd be safe. Apparently, the Queen would always be wrong, at least for today. For when I entered my chambers I could not miss the silhouette of Robert's gross figure standing by the window sill.

He stood eerily still and Cleora's empty bassinet implied that she was not there to afford me with some sort of relief from the staggering silence Robert suddenly impressed upon me.

"Have you spoken to Jon?" I asked, and his lack of response or movement told me more than what I needed to know.

Is this why he asked me to go to the council meeting? Was he trying to trick me into another lecture about having my legs opened for him whenever he so wished? He couldn't even spare me the humiliation of that? Robert wants his way, Robert's cock wants his way and so all of us must bow down to cater to it.

"I suppose he told you what I told him." My voice was dull as I said it, and my husband still did not respond.

"You're not going to say anything?" Apparently so. For he merely stood there with his hands clasped tightly behind his back, still staring out into the sickening bay.

"I won't change my mind, Robert. I'm not ready and if you make me I swear on both our mother's bones that I won't forgive you. I can't, I won't be able to. Not after everything else." It wasn't a threat. It wasn't a lie. It was the truth. Finally, it was the truth.

"I've...i've been trying hard not to be as...as loud about everything as I used to be. You gave me a daughter, and I've been patient. I haven't been a saint, I know, but it's better than before. But if I can't be in your bed then I will have to be in someone else's." That was Robert's truth -plain as day. _If I can't have you, I will have someone else._

It wasn't Jon Arryn -or maybe it was not _all_ Jon Arryn. Robert was part of this. Robert wanted to have me regardless of what I had to say or feel about it. Why was I even surprised? Isn't that what I knew from the very beginning? Why would I or anyone think he had changed?

"How does that make you feel?" He breathed out as he finally turned to face me. His eyes were dark but they held a hope in them -one I recognised I myself held many a time when I waited and waited for _something_ from him. And it never came, and it never crashed -it only ever died slowly into nothingness. Into the abyss.

"It doesn't make me feel anything." I watched it die, only slightly and very slowly, but I witnessed it all the same -he had hope and it was now I that strangled it to lessen its spark.

"You'll never change, Robert. And you shouldn't have to. Not for me at least." And I meant it. I truly did.

"But I deserve better, and I won't give you my heart". A tear escaped me as I said it because I knew how far its truth extended, and I waved good bye to the part of me that wished I had a heart to give him.

He did not say good bye when he left me. He only kept his head down as he stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind me. Maybe a moon ago I would have let it give me some solace that he cared enough to release his anger -but Robert would throw a tantrum if his boar was not well salted enough.

I knew better than to expect my husband's company for dinner that night, and I had no wish at all to join any other acquaintance and wear my false smile any longer. It was my brother who joined me eventually after I had summoned him, and when he entered I stood at the same windowsill Robert stood in mere hours ago. I wondered; maybe if I literally stood in his place i'd understand him. But that was a farce -I understood him better than most. Even his whores did not understand him as well as I did. He wanted to be loved, to be wanted, by all. He thrived on the pain of turning others away. Robert only liked his grief when he could fight on who could share it with him.

My brother approached me gently, his steps barely audible as his familiar scent gathered near me and he placed his hands parallel to mine on the sill.

"This place, Andrew." I breathed, I was empty only hours ago -and now I was full of everything I had no time to feel since Cleora.

"I know." He said with an arm around my shoulder as I lay my head on his wishing I could fall asleep in the crook of his neck. He was the only man I met today that had yet to disappoint me.

 _You are no longer my protector, dear brother. I have had to do without you for so long._

* * *

 **In all honesty I considered many times to skip this chapter entirely and replace it with the next one but I _needed_ it. And plus, the whole Dorne thing...it needed a chapter. But the next chapter should give you ( _all_ of you) want you want ;).**

 **PLEASE review and let me know what you thought of this chapter!**


	10. Forgiveness

**A/N:** **Here's the next chapter -hope you enjoy the change of scenery!**

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The wind, the harsh wind that never had enough spine to blow through King's Landing, broke through my hair as we rode deeper into the mountains of the Vale. I wore no helm like the riders around me, I had no cover to hide under when it suited me. And so, I Helaena Baratheon, rode for once as an equal alongside the only men it was proper for a queen to ride next to as my hair flew back with wild abandon.

The mountains did nothing to lessen the winds once we had made our way among them, but still we rode through it knowing the final stage of the journey would be the most unrelenting.

It had been a fortnight since Lord Arryn's return to King's Landing that it was stated he was to return to the Vale on the way with Lord Stark's return North to visit his young wife -who herself was too weak to travel down to King's Landing after her miscarriage. I would have felt some sympathy for Jon Arryn had I not felt it for his wife -not only was she frailer and even less impregnable than I seemed to be but she was only a young girl, not much younger than I, and yet she was to call husband someone I had only ever associated with fatherhood. And, of course, since Lord Arryn seemed quite unrelenting in talks of an heir with his previous ward's wife I can't imagine how the matter must grate on him when it came to his own family tree.

Jon Arryn had suffered many losses, the Arryn's of the Eyrie had not had the easiest lineage as of late. His first wife had died in childbirth whilst delivering a stillborn daughter, and his second died from a winter chill while bearing him no children. I heard that Lord Arryn's younger brother died of a severe belly ache -if that was at all possible, and his only son was executed by the Mad King -all of Jon's appointed heirs named during that time died one after the other with Denys Arryn perished during the Battle of the Bells. It felt like an awful lot of effort for the Gods to thrust just to make it harder for Jon Arryn to have an heir, and I wondered what sins he was being punished for to deserve such inflictions. One could hardly chalk all of those successive tragedies to mere bad luck, could they? Or was it just not up to any of us mortals to question why things happened the way they did -were we just meant to follow? Whether it was folly from the Gods or atonement, I would never know -for Jon Arryn stood as high as honour and in comparison to the misery he had suffered I could hardly complain about mine.

True to my demands Robert didn't come to my bed since I had told him not to -and true to his word he took up his nights with someone else. It wasn't just a common whore that slept in his bed now, it was a _mistress_ of sorts that was concealed away from me and yet Robert made sure I knew it. He made sure I knew that it was _my_ doing that brought another woman to his bed -even though it was gladly a choice i'd make again were it not for the lingering doubt that whomever he chose would have some sway over him. But then again, he came to my bed many a night before I gave him a princess, and yet my hold on him was minimal to say the least.

We only had Cleora in common now. He was pleasant enough to me when he saw me in the day time save for the handful of outbursts i've had to endure regarding our current status.

 _"You're a cold, cold woman!"_ He said in the first days, but I felt nothing -to my very detriment I was proving him right.

The rest of the time he was silent -and he always looked at me like he was in pain. I never imagined that it would be I that inspired that look in his eyes, but it felt less than monumental when I witnessed it for myself.

Our distance was stifling, and so he jumped at the first opportunity of leaving King's Landing farther than his usual hunts. I could hardly expect him not to seeing as it would to him be another adventure with the men that stood in for his brother and father. I would have been happy regardless of my own need to get away from court if he hadn't mentioned that Renly would be coming with them.

The day I heard, I stormed gracefully into his chambers which thankfully held only him at that time of day, and the ensuing entrance arrested Robert enough to make him listen to me.

 _"I want to come with you, to the Eyrie." It was enough to grant me his silence for all of a few seconds before his eyes pointed back decidedly at me._

 _"What are you talking about?" He knew, far better than anything I had ever said to him, just what I was talking about._

 _"Am I confined to King's Landing? Can I not visit a Kingdom I am Queen of with my own husband?" He brought his hand to his forehead like I was exhausting his capacities. Thinking had never been Robert's forte._

 _"Of course you're not confined." He sighed out._

 _"Then will you allow me to accompany you?" I promise I won't get in the way of your whoring -I never had in the past. It was the first sign of humiliation I allowed myself to endure since I stood up to him last -the reminder that I needed his permission to be allowed to go somewhere, that regardless of how much I would not let him have of me I still needed his approval to stop standing still._

 _"The Eyrie would be honoured to see its Queen's arrival." His small smile surprised me, but I turned on my heel with a nod far too quickly to let it change what I had set out to do._

 _And so on the same morning that Benjen Stark begrudgingly rode south to Sunspear, Robert, Ned, Renly, Jon Arryn and I made our way North to the Vale._

The ride to the Vale was less than bearable. If I was complaining about being confined to King's Landing before then one could just imagine how I felt being confined to an enclosed carriage with no one but Cleora and her nursemaid. I took solace in the fact that it was only I that got to savour in the shine in her eyes and the gurgle of a smile she was beginning to show.

Cleora was so sweet, so good, I don't know how Robert and I made her, but we did. But when she cried she howled like Robert, and it was enough to convince me that she truly was ours if I could close my eyes to the striking resemblance she bore us.

We slept in one tent together whenever we couldn't stop at an inn, and on the nights where both me and my arse were not too exhausted to fall to bed with Robert we would stay up just a little longer and tickle Cleora's belly together like we were children playing with a new pet kitten. He didn't touch me when we slept on opposite ends of the bed, but when I woke I would often find him regarding me strangely as he sat upon my end of the bed.

" _I'll help ready the men." It was a sad excuse to leave my company -a King did not need to ready anyone, he merely had to demand it and it would be so._

 _"I'll see you on the road." I said jokingly, knowing i'd only get stray glimpses of his pitch black head of hair. He leaned into me, his large frame nearly hovering over me completely, and he placed a soft kiss to my temple before he turned away with hesitation and left me with our daughter._

The beginning of the mountains was the final straw -and after a day of being rocked wildly and having my head bumped time and time again on the roof of the carriage I vowed that I would not see the inside of that carriage for this singular journey again.

And so now we approached the daunting climb to the Eyrie, all four of us up front and on our horses. My chosen mare walked astride Lord Stark's, who was on my right, and my left was open to my husband and his dark charger. On the far left rode my husband's Hand, and future host, Lord Arryn, and almost the entire Kingsguard rode behind us save for Ser Borous who rode by the princess's carriage. Renly rode back with Ser Jared, his sworn sword from Storm's End, and I looked back at him repeatedly throughout our ride wondering why Robert would make him ride through the harsh winds and weathers.

We climbed up the Giant's Lance silently, except for Robert and Ned who had finally found their voices and reminisced over seeing other lords slip and fall up the way. " _Amateurs_ " they called them, and I held back every yelp that might have escaped me when I felt my mount fall to slip but kept my head held high as I tightened my grip on both the reigns and the horse.

We arrived tired, weathered, and we had no reception other than the head of the household knights and the men he commanded. I was helped out by Robert, and no sooner had his large hands grasped my waist did I thank the Gods for the warmth they provided even briefly. My gratitude dissipated as I felt the cold return and the worry for my daughter and Renly rise. But I had not even turned to the mountains a moment before I saw Renly on Ser Orys's horse and Cleora's carriage pulled up finally by Ser Borous. And yet it was a sigh of relief that would not come, not until my daughter was in my arms again.

We were led to the Crescent Chamber by the guards, where we were given fleeced cloaks and warm tea. I struggled holding the cloak to myself and handling the tea whilst I held Cleora, but I still would not give her to the nursemaid, not after being away from her for so long. To my surprise, it was Ned Stark that offered to carry the princess so I could finish my tea.

A servant rushed to tell something to his returned lord in low whispers, and Jon Arryn nodded his head in disappointment -almost like that was what he feared he was expecting.

"See here Renly? This is where boys become men!" _Or where men become Kings._

And while Robert walked around recounting the every corner of his boyhood seat and the warmth received me better I stood with my husband's closest friend, who murmured softly into my awakened daughter's ears.

I was fascinated, regarding him cautiously so as not to interrupt him while he held her. She smiled at him with bubbles in her mouth, and I broke the spell when I in turn giggled at the recollection of her shrieking ungraciously when Tywin Lannister first held her.

"You're very good with her." He tried to give her back, but I just stood closer to him and rubbed her back in circles while she rested her head on his shoulders.

"My son is not much older, your grace. I fear it's a necessary talent to be acquired when you have children." _Not all men would agree with you, Lord Stark._ Even Robert had a bastard, born right here in the Vale too, that he had all too lovingly abandoned when it came time to march for Lyanna. Perhaps Lord Stark honoured his own bastard far different than Robert did his.

"It definitely helps that she likes you." It was one of the rarest times I had seen Ned Stark smile, and perhaps the first time it had been my doing, and my cheeks pinked gratuitously at the sentiment.

Not long after we were led to our rooms. I was thankful that Robert and I were given separate chambers, sharing a tent was born out of necessity, sharing a room would be born out of sheer cruelty to the both of us at the way we stood.

In all honestly, I hadn't even considered when exactly i'd be _ready_ for Robert to be in my bed once again, for the soreness had left me almost completely by this time. I suppose I wanted Cleora to be a little older, perhaps trying for an heir so soon was like admitting that she wasn't enough. I kept imagining what she'd think when she was older, what she'd feel about herself when a younger brother of hers was more revered and celebrated by the court whilst she remained as an unfortunate attempt. The only perk of not deciding anything for yourself was not having to take any initiative on the matter. If I ever saw myself ready again, how would I even tell him? Or would I, like him, go to Jon Arryn and force him in as a mediator?

Lysa Arryn was just as frail and young as I pictured her to be -except she seemed far more unwell than i'd seen anyone be ever before. She bowed down to me shakily and her bright blue eyes bounced out of her head like they were waiting for something to attack, for something to change. Lady Arryn was...fragile, yet her voice was eerily louder than her body, and her laugh haunted the halls we shared. I felt sorry for her, and I felt even more sorry that her company was not sought after by me.

" _You're lucky to have such a beautiful, healthy daughter, your grace._ " She said once with ghosted eyes, and after I returned to my chambers that day I demanded that Cleora sleep in my chambers instead of the nursery.

The disadvantages of a narrow castle were clear -it was easier to coincide with people one was trying to avoid. And added to the list of Lysa Arryn still remained Jaime Lannister.

I only spoke to Ser Jaime sparingly now even though I was unconvinced that that somehow made me his Queen -he surely did not address me like one. It was begrudgingly that I admitted it bothered me -wasn't that exactly why I had enjoyed and needed him so much? I selfishly forgot that it came with a price -how foolish had I been to think that I was beyond reproach? But I wasn't false -he could not call me false any more. There was nothing that I had to _endure_ any longer, no orders from a lesser lord that I had to bow down to.

I thought about it now, still, as we sat in the High Hall for dinner at the Eyrie. Were any of my efforts permanently fruitful? Surely not. In the end, I was helpless. A woman's duty was to her husband -or so they kept saying, and a Queen's duty lay with her King, and his council and Kingdom apparently. Would I refuse them should they demand that of me a second, third time? Helaena Estermont just might. I wonder, if I were a lion of Lannister, would I bow down to them just as well? Or was that pride just as false as I had called their golden son to be?

I was drawn back to the conversation when I heard laughter -and for once I was disappointed that it wasn't Robert's. It was lady Arryn's, and everyone in attendance -including the Lord of Winterfell, Lord of the Vale and his Lords Declarant. When I looked to Robert, who was sitting in the raised dais with me, he regarded me strangely for once with a sadness that was directed _at_ me instead of _because_ of me.

"What is it?" I asked conspicuously, a little worried that the King's broken smile would be seen by everyone else in attendance. Could he be thinking of Lyanna again, I wonder?

"I just...you look so much like my mother. I didn't notice just how much before, maybe I forgot." I hadn't even expected an answer, and so what I got was something I knew little what to do with.

It was, I believe, one of the nicest things Robert had ever said to me regardless of whether or not he meant it to be so. I was going to tell him that my aunt Cassana was far more beautiful than I -and stronger, and kinder and more selfless, but I remained silent as I tried to read what lay in his eyes unsuccessfully. I hoped he was right more than I could agree with him -I hope I was a fraction of my aunt. She married a Baratheon and bore him three boys -she made the Baratheon love her, respect her, keep her in his confidence and never set her aside for any woman -dead or alive. I hope a piece of my aunt lives inside of me or shines enough to help me with her eldest son.

The remainder of the evening droned on -and the silence of the surrounding mountains haunted every conversation that tried and failed to engage me, so I made the decision to retire earlier and I felt Robert's stare chase me as I made my way out.

As luck, my luck at least, would have it, I encountered Ser Jaime standing with Ser Meryn on my exit. I decided that, again, I would not hide from him. I convinced myself it was out of pride and goodness -and not out of the selfishness of wanting to be indulged in his company once again.

He immediately pushed himself off the archway he was leaning on and looked pointedly at Ser Meryn not to move in his stead. It made me feel a little less apprehensive in my coming attempt that perhaps the golden knight missed my company as well.

"Will you walk with me, Ser Jaime?" I asked as he began to walk behind me through the twisting halls and he nodded whilst offering his hand to me.

"I can not refuse a Queen, your grace."

"I don't feel like one." I was tired, and I had had some wine -but still it was no excuse for what I said. I was glad to be met with silence, was he thinking of his other Queen? Maybe she felt more of a Queen than I did -she was after all raised as a princess.

My thoughts drifted from the dead queen Rhaella to the castle we walked within. Lord Stark and my Robert lived here as boys -and they started a war that they lived to finish.

"Do you think this place breeds real men, Ser Jaime?" I wondered out loud, and I was glad to see the smirk that drifted to his lips when I turned to him for an answer.

"It must seem so, your grace. Though i've seen less than worthy knights graduated from the Vale." I would ask him to name them to me later and tell me why he deemed them unworthy -maybe on another night when it was not so eery and the wind didn't weep through the windows.

"I suppose there are always a few exceptions." I added to him before continuing with the true question that had plagued my subconscious mind since my arrival here. "I worry that a future prince would be expected to be fostered up here." Up here in the lonely mountains, by himself with no mother to hold him when he missed her. Renly could not last here, he was at his childhood seat and yet I still worried over him profusely -what worry would overcome me with my own son up here in the harshness?

"I'm sure they could foster a future prince closer should you wish it." It was meant to sooth me, i'm sure, but I scoffed at the notion of my words being taken as more than that of a spoilt queen's.

"I never get what I want." I said bitterly as we neared my rooms, I was surely starting to sound like a chided child by now.

"You have to know what you want in the first place." His answer was confusing, to say the least, and he let go of my arm gently as he looked at me awaiting my reaction. I was starting to get the feeling that Ser Jaime said things just to see how it would fester inside the person directed to.

"I know what I want." I replied, and the increased bitterness in my voice must have betrayed what I knew was true -I had no idea what I wanted.

"I take your leave, my queen." He bowed down and out. His chiseled golden faced dissipated into the dark of the halls, and I prayed to the Gods that I would not dream of him that night. The green had been coming to me more often in my dreams in his absence.

We stayed nearly a whole moon at the Eyrie and that was how most of my nights ended. Ned Stark had said his goodbyes and left up North and I had almost even warmed back up to Lord Arryn, but still it was only Ser Jaime with whom I walked with at night and _still_ Lysa Arryn's company was less than soothing to my senses. Whenever we sat together it was mostly in silence -we would sow, eat, play cards which I would always win, but when Cleora was with us or in my arms the young Lady would regard in an almost disturbing manner.

And so on one of our last nights in the Eyrie Ser Jaime walked me back to my rooms, as usual, and I bid him good night when I entered. And just like every other night, I changed into my shift and sat at the dresser as I started to undo my hair. It felt just like any other night, except that this time my night time ritual was interrupted by the soft opening of my door.

I turned sharply at the intrusion, thinking it could only be Ser Jaime coming to warn me of the grave danger we were somehow in in the impregnable Eyrie. But what I found was Robert, my husband, standing regrettably in my room as the door clocked behind him.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as I stood up, suddenly alarmed at having him in my room -in this space that Robert had yet to invade.

"I..." He tried to say, and the wine on his breath was not as pronounced as it usually was when we stood in dark room together. He stepped towards me without forming a full sentence, and my chest constricted tighter into me at the discernment that Robert was in my room when I didn't want him to be, what else would he do further that I did not want him to do?

"Robert, please." I breathed out, and the desperation grew obvious in my voice the closer he got.

"Helaena," He came to me with a soft hand on mine, but I heaved out heavily at the contact. _I don't want this, I don't want any of this._

My tears fell, barely held back under the strain that I had thus far tried so hard to contain.

"I can't. I don't want to look at you and see her. Please. Do you know what it's like for me? To be violated by someone I once loved? To be a corpse for you every time you come to my bed? I can't pretend like i'm dead anymore." My voice squeaked out to beg, and his hand quickly fell from my own. But his eyes remained trained on me, _what do I have to do to get them off me?_

To my surprise, his voice echoed through the dark when he made to speak. And it took me off guard after getting used to his sullen silence whenever he came to me.

"I once thought that i'd give anything, anything in the world to have Lyanna back." He started talking and at first it confused me that he was talking about her or he was even saying her name, but then I realised that this- right now, was the moment. I knew it'd come, or maybe I hoped for it, but it's exactly how I imagined it. We'd be standing in the dark, and i'd be in tears.

"I'd imagine a pit of fire and I'd think up thousands of things that I liked, i'd throw them all in for Lyanna to come back. A million cities, that damned throne, wine, whores, Jon -sometimes even Ned when he was being an honourable fool." _Or me. A thousand times Me._

"I would think of you, and even though you looked so sad, even though I knew I was the one who made you so sad, i'd push you in every single time." It was relieving, strangely. I was right about something, I was finally right about Robert. I didn't know what it was -whether it was some sort of admission or way of atonement, but still he continued.

"But I was wrong -I wouldn't give anything for Lyanna back. I'd rather watch her die just like Ned found her than think of anything happening to Cleora. Maybe I wasn't made to be a father, or a husband, but I love our daughter. Gods know it's the best thing i've ever done." It took me off guard - _could we be strong enough for your fire?_ He bit down on his lip before he continued, and I caught sight of the stray tear that left his eyes while the words I couldn't believe I was hearing slowly left him.

"So now, when that pit appears in my dreams and you're standing in front of it holding Cleora, I walk away. It's hard, but I do it. And it's a lot easier than thinking of a world without her -or you." I imagined myself by his fire now, too, holding Cleora. He would charge at me with a stag's head, and yet my feet were too firmly planted in the ground to fall back. I was strong, my daughter made me strong.

I lifted the hand that had just only minutes ago shuddered fearfully at his touch and spread my palm delicately upon his cheek. I felt more wetness than the tears that I could see.

"I'm sorry." He whispered out as he squinted his dark blue eyes, "I'm so, so sorry, for everything." It was the apology I had been waiting for, and with it came the onslaught of tears that followed as he clutched my elbow and pressed his eyes against the crook of my neck.

He leant into my small frame as he hugged me tighter to him, and I wrapped my short arms around his tall frame while he cried closer to me. Eventually his weight won out -my feet were not as firmly planted as I had originally thought, and we sunk down to the ground together as he both wept again like the children we once knew one another to be.

"Do you hate me, Helaena? My own blood?" He pulled himself back to look at me with his wet eyes.

"I don't hate you, Robert." I _hate this, I hate everything else. I hate our crowns and our duties and the ties that bound us as man and wife -but I couldn't hate you, Robert. I was finally seeing it, I could finally see it for myself._

He kissed me then while both our cheeks were wet and my defences fallen -and I did not think to bring them back up. I kissed him back with my knees still on the floor - _here I pledge my loyalty,_ the knights would say. But here I pledge my understanding, my acknowledgement. _I see you Robert, I finally see you._

His large hands moved soothingly around my back, and the hem of my shift eventually lifted enough for him to touch, to finally feel, the skin that lay underneath it. I in turn unlaced his doublet to the best of my abilities, and not once did our lips leave the other's until we were both naked, completely bare and vulnerable to the other.

Robert laid me on my back onto the cold ground, and he asked me if it was alright. It didn't matter eventually since the warmth his hovering body offered me was more than enough to cancel out the invading cold. He kept his eyes trained on mine when he entered me, and the gesture itself was enough to push another strain of tears out of my eyes. We touched every part of each other that suddenly seemed new and unexplored, and the realisation that no part of it brought me to shame finally set me free enough to enjoy what my husband was finally giving me.

It was the first time it was a choice -for either of us, the first time it was truly me that he wanted to touch. He came to his end with a sob, and I kissed his raven black hair as his wet hot tears stained my chest. My poor, grief stricken King, my cousin.

And still, even with his tears lining my skin and his hands around me completely, I knew it was all he could give. This was the furthest Robert could give -maybe not even for me, maybe this was the farthest he would go for anyone, even the wolfgirl. This was the most I could hope for from him, an open soul and softer hands, but nothing more. I didn't even know if there was more to feel, but what was in my arms did not fill me like a dream -it wasn't enough.

I could not sleep that night after we made love for the first time, and yet my thoughts rarely drifted to Robert even once as he slept with his arms around me. It felt nice, it felt good to know now fully where I stood with him. I stood _with_ him. Not under him in submission, not atop him like I was latching onto him whilst he was trying to push me away in favour of someone else. We were together, we were cousins, we were _family_ , and though I knew now that he could not give me what I wished for, it was better now that I knew instead of jumping to my own horrid conclusions about it. For the first time I was so purely wanted, so purely desired -it made me wonder whether he was the one I wanted to want so badly.

I thought about it, still, and the way my body moved freely now that it was not confined to sheer duty against his, while I stood in the nursery staring down at the child we had made together.

As I heard familiar footsteps approaching I asked the Gods whether they had cursed me with a man who could read my mind, for Ser Jaime stood closer to my side while I remained entranced at the sight beneath me.

"Isn't she beautiful?" I wondered aloud.

"All babes look the same."

"They do not!" I turned to him to exclaim as reasonably as I could with my daughter fast asleep in her crib.

His smile was sunshine, and it alit the new me with something I was only starting to understand. His eyes, still so young and ever green, wrinkled with his wide smile and he looked down at Cleora whilst I remained entranced with him.

"She'll grow into a great beauty, i'm sure. She won't want for anything." He looked back up at me, and I was not sure if it was the lack of any "your grace"s in the conversation or the way his hair just barely kissed his face, but I knew that in that moment I wanted _him_ to want me.

"I know what I want. I know what I want now." I whispered, and I only just caught his face fall in confusion before I closed the gap between us.

We stood still against one another, finally as young as our high birth never allowed us to be, and my hands moved up to his shoulder to balance my sudden movement.

When he finally moved, it was his lips that took the first initiative. He leaned back into me hungrily, and bit my bottom lips as his hand -the same hand that weld a deadly sword, rose up to my burning cheek and caught my straying hairs.

I didn't know it was possible to stand so close to someone before, not even last night, and yet all our parts crushed together to make an unnatural variation of pale chestnut and summer blonde as we kissed hungrily. He breathed hard against me, and when he stopped moving I stole another small kiss from him as I brought myself down to the ground.

I had only kissed three men in my life, but I daresay I had never been kissed back by lips so soft. He moved away from me with my hand still resting inside his. Bowing down slightly he laced a kiss to the knuckles of my fingers and rose once more, finally letting go. The only thing he left me with was a knowing smile as he backed out and away from the room. My fingers danced on my lips as I recalled the sensation that seared through me when ours met.

"My Queen."

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 **So? I made it happen you guys! Tell me what you think! I know it's a bit of a twist this chapter but I believe that this was true to Helaena -she needed to kind of _move on_ from the stand still she was living in with Robert and I feel like now she has the confidence to confront what she wants.**

 **I found it pretty ironic that a Guest user commented on the last chapter** **"** **Though I look forward to seeing what it is that Robert does to finally get Helaena to move onto Jaime.". I mean, I know it's not the TYPICAL push-over-the-edge thing but I kind of wanted to illustrate that this change or decision came from WITHIN. I didn't want Helaena to choose Jaime just because Robert drove her to it, ja feel?**

 **Please, please review!**


	11. Unmitigated Circumstances

**A/N: First thing's first guys: Robert apologising to Helaena and their subsequent doing it? Not a declaration of love. I don't know how to explain it...it's like this familial understanding...but with sex just being a symptom of it. This is by no means a testament to their regular boning, just something born out of the heightened passions that come with such a confession. RobertxHelaena is more like...I gots your back homie, not "I will literally kill everyone else in this room just to get a view of you walking away from me cause damn" I just needed it to happen. And I did NOT want Helaena's decision about Jaime to come from something Robert does, I didn't want her to choose him just because the guy she was married to treated her badly or not. And JaimexHelaena is still...new, so bear with me as we see what happens.**

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I could hardly believe what I had done to Ser Jaime, or to myself.

Would I call him Jaime, now? Is he Jaime to me? It was all I could think about after I knew the taste of gold.

It reminded of me something my mother would do when I was little. She was a western woman from by the crag of not too high a nobility, and whenever i'd suffer a fall or get scared she would swirl a piece of gold jewelry -her ring, pendant, earring even, into a cup of water and have me drink it. She said that the gold would soothe me, that it would make all the bad thoughts go away and everything would feel right -was that true even now that I was kissed by the Golden Knight?

We left the Eyrie the day after next -would that be how I dated everything now? _After Jaime's Kiss._ How silly a maiden must I sound like? I hadn't been neither silly nor a maiden in so, so long.

Robert was too drunk, thankfully, on our last night in the Eyrie to come to my rooms again. I hadn't even thought about what his last visit meant to me, or us. Did it still mean the same thing after I shared a forbidden embrace with his Kingsguard? I couldn't deny Robert, I knew that above all else, both because my duty demanded that of me at least until I had more heirs and because he had opened his soul up enough to let me in -I didn't want to shut him out. So it was a welcome relief that as I lay in bed on my last night in the mountains I could think about how Ser Jaime's hand cupped my face and the other held me closer by the hand.

It was beautiful, he was beautiful -more majestic than a dream of him could ever be.

Now every time he helped me off my horse and my fingers stilled in his hand it meant something new, something completely foreign to me. Was this what courtship felt like? I had never been courted before. I was careful not to let me eyes linger on his smirk when we rode next to each other and didn't address him so directly or with enough familiarity to arouse any suspicion during our journey back to King's Landing, especially with all these eyes closely watching.

It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss. But what it did it mean for us now? I knew I wanted _him_ , but did that mean i'd...have him in my bed? Whenever the thought crossed my mind I would feel myself shy at four and ten once more. I didn't know what to do -or what I wanted out of my sudden action. All I knew was that I wanted to kiss him again, it was the only sense of control I had -an enjoyable one at that. Was that what i'd reduced myself, the Queen, and my Kingsguard to? Men i'd kiss in rooms. Or perhaps Ser Jaime thinks by now that i've tested out the loyalties of the rest of the Kingsguard. _As if._

Either way, I strangely could not wait to be back in the Capital if only to have more _room_ to address my knight. _My knight._ Would he like me to call him such? We could speak in King's Landing -we hadn't had a real chance to speak after our kiss or during the journey. I wondered many a time as Robert lay in my bed on our way back whether Ser Jaime had a secret lover waiting for him too. Robert left me be on the journey, too, since both of us were far too exhausted to even speak to one another by the time we entered our tents -I had taken to riding out with him and Lord Arryn for larger chunks of the journey since I could no longer deny myself the sweet taste of false freedom as I rode through the country.

I could see King's Landing now, we were so close, and that meant that a decision had to be made.

 _I'll tell him i'm confused. I'll tell him i'm sorry. Would he fight for me? Would he fight to keep me? I want him to, i'll say yes with one word of complaint. It's so easy to say yes._

He needed to only hand my daughter to me even as my husband rushed to help me off my horse for me to know that that was a lie; I couldn't declare I was confused, I can no longer look into those green orbs and pretend like I don't dream of them doing things to me I didn't even know were possible. I wanted it, I wanted to _feel._ Robert got to feel all sorts of things from all sorts of people -he made that known to me, so why could I not kiss a man I had somehow tricked myself into thinking could actually care for me, truly?

My thoughts tousled, even as I walked through the Holdfast to my chambers knowing his familiar smell was right on my heels and my heart beat faster knowing that in only minutes I would be at my door.

He held my things in his hands, and he did not look at me as he sided his way into my room to set them down. _Maybe coming back here was the end, maybe I had shamed him too much. He swore a vow._

Everything came to a halt when I heard the door click behind me but still felt his presence in my room. He stood by the door, apparently unsure with what to do of himself, and I looked down apologetically at the position I was only just realising I had put him in.

"I didn't-" I began, wanting -wishing, to tell him that he was not one of Robert's whores to me, he was not a toy -a plaything, left to my disposal and ordered to obey me. I was going to tell him that he didn't owe me anything, that I was a shameful Queen like I was standing on trial. But none of it left my lips, nothing _could_ since they fell under the consuming spell he placed upon them when he rushed to me and his armour clanked against my gown.

His lips climbed atop mine and I knew then -I knew, I knew, I knew, undeniably that there was something in his blood that must weave gold within it. I should be scared that someone might walk in, I should fear that the Gods were watching and condemning me as an unfaithful wife -but I cared not. Perhaps they were watching, so I might as well have made a show of it.

His arms encased me completely and in turn I clasped both of mine on his jaw and drew them down to his neck as I felt his hands tighten around my waist. We swayed slowly together, wordlessly, as we continued our exploration and eventually through our daze I found myself against the very door that sealed the spell we were both under.

His hand drifted upwards on my front, and his now ungloved finger found its way to my chin and he broke us apart to look at me looking at him. _What did any of this mean?_

"I'm sure your grace must be weary from the journey." Did he sense me doubt this? Did he see it on my face? I doubt he could, for his voice hovered dangerously close to my neck before he placed a soft kiss on the place his voice infected.

"Aye...a little lightheaded." I said as I savoured the feel of those same soft lips against my neck.

He lifted his beautiful young face to look directly down at me once more. Our noses brushed along the other's while our eyes remained closed and the heat of our breath kissed the other's face in our lips' stead -it felt so good to hand over control. I'd gladly give him the reigns if it meant feeling what I could now feel.

"I take your leave, your grace. Perhaps we can continue this... _discussion_ later." He peeled back slightly, still containing me within the dungeon his hands created on the door behind me, but far enough away to welcome a chilled breeze between us.

"You assume too much, Ser." I answered him squinting, trying to figure out what his lasting smile meant.

He took my hand in his once more, and I could finally feel his fingers for myself this time instead of in my dreams.

"It's a bad habit of mine." He answered before he was off me completely and he bowed awkwardly -which I didn't understand until I realised it was I that was blocking his way to the door.

Everything in or on me felt different, even after he left, I could still smell his hair against my fingers. My neck, my cheeks, my lips, even my hair, they all felt like they had bubbled and boiled over and they were unrecognisable to me. It felt like I was meeting again the girl I had forgone when I left Estermont. _Hello, I am Helaena, have you forgotten so soon?_

I stood in my room in silence and waited for King's Landing to swallow me whole once more.

I had my lunch with my surrounding ladies and the man that had kissed me standing guard in the garden -was he not yet tired of watching me? I fear he's given himself too much room to grow bored of me. After all, all men grow bored eventually.

It was the worst part of my return -the ladies who would not leave me alone. I had to watch as they walked unmarried, unburdened, and unashamed to rest their eyes on the man whose lips I had claimed for myself in a castle in the sky. Maybe it was the food, maybe it was the way I clenched and grit my teeth in a way that could challenge Stannis whenever a young lady stole yet another glance at Ser Jaime, or perhaps it was the weariness of the journey, but my meal did not sit well with me in the slightest. Nearly three moons away from a place you had barely gotten used to calling hope could do that to a woman.

I didn't think it could, though, drive me to empty the contents of my still empty stomach into my chamberpot not an hour after my meal. How high and mighty must I look. Helaena, wife of Robert Baratheon, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, bent over my chamberpot waving away my ladies in waiting as the sick stained my combed hair dangling over the scene.

It was perhaps when the third hour had passed of my incessant sickness that I heard Ser Barristan call for the Maester. When he carried me to my bed, my indignity barely allowing him to tear me off the floor, I caught myself in the mirror pale and lifeless -perhaps it was the golden kiss of death and this was my atonement somehow. _I'd gladly do it again._

Pycelle asked his usual questions but with a sharpened concern to his brow that even served to worry me slightly -I was well not long ago, I was alive and kissing a knight of the Kingsguard, and now I was bedridden and the Maester's odor was enough to send me whirling into the chamber pot once more. I didn't know if I had anything more to hurl out.

Someone whispered about poison, and my heart jumped at the thought of leaving Cleora alone.

"Where is my daughter?" I murmured feverishly, and in the next moment it was my husband that had replaced the Maester and was sat by my side of the bed out of breath.

"Robert," he took my hand with a smile as my lids fought to stay open, _perhaps I was weary from the journey after all._

"Your grace," Pycelle interrupted with his wild fingers waving around his face, and Robert turned to him with thunder in his voice.

"What is it?! What ails the Queen?"

"Your grace, her ladies maids ate from the same food and they are more than well, I doubt it's poison." He turned to address me now instead of my husband who now sat stumped and confused with my hand limp in his.

"My Queen, I must ask, when did you last have your moonsblood?" My moonsblood? Did he-? Does he actually-? But I haven't-? _Oh, but I have._

 _"_ Not since before they arrived at the Eyrie, Grand Maester." Came out of my handmaiden and my eyes surged to hers almost in warning. Could this mean that I was...?

"Your grace, may you excuse me. I'll need to...examine the Queen." His disposition was surely improving now that I may not have been poisoned and dying under his watch, whereas Robert looked like it had only just dawned on him why there was talk of my moonsblood in his presence. He got up in near disillusion, those dark blue eyes wide with realisation, and he pressed a swift kiss to my temple that did nothing to reassure me before the door closed behind him leaving me with a smelly old man.

I felt the familiar invasiveness that I did when he last examined me in such a way, and I did not miss the sly smile on his face when he removed himself. He didn't even turn to look at me, he didn't even both turning his head to say anything to me, the Queen, the one to bear responsibility, the one whose body this belonged to. No, he merely swiftly brought a cloth to wipe at his hand and stumbled to the door to make the announcement I knew was coming for all that gathered to hear.

"The Queen is withchild!"

There it was. There was my truth. Hours ago, I was a Queen willing to kiss a beautiful young knight -it was too much, but it was still less than this. Hour ago, I was not the Queen carrying the King's potential heir. Hours ago, I was bearing the reminder to my possible lover that I still kept my bed for my husband.

I was given milk of the poppy, thankfully -if I was asleep I couldn't be sick. When I dreamt, I was laughing, and I was holding two babes in my arms while they cried and their father pushed hundreds of men off their horses to crown them. And when I woke, I felt dirtier than ever before. Why was it that every time a babe of mine wanted to make his or hers presence known in my womb they had to force me into such humiliating encounters? No doubt the Maesters and the council must think me of weak stock by now -I couldn't just peacefully let moons pass and then realise that I was withchild.

Although, what would have become of me if I had let moons pass without knowing? This was Robert's child, undeniably, of course, but what would have become of me had I taken up with Ser Jaime and then come to realise I was withchild? I'd drive myself insane, and consider a merciful death of my choice rather than risk birthing a child that had no features of both Robert and I -what would I suffer then? What would my daughter suffer if people found out that I had done something to give them cause to question their Queen's faithfulness and virtue. Was this the Gods' way of telling me that I was committing to dark a sin, too deep an offense to be granted forgiveness for later on? And yet I wondered how it could be so when it felt so right, far too right for me to deny even now as I lay with my husband on one side, my daughter on the other side, and an unborn babe inside me.

I demanded Cleora be kept near me, and so Robert had taken it upon himself to join as well. When the shock of the revelation dissipated I couldn't help but feel an annoying pride make its way through me that Jon Arryn would rejoice in this news -and relief that if this was the heir everyone was waiting for then i'd finally be free.

Who was I trying to fool? I am Queen, I will never be free. We are chained to our Kings, they might as well lock us in Dothraki widow caves to live out the rest of our days when our Kings die. No one else is allowed to touch us, whether he is dead or alive. When Robert dies, i'll be made to grieve him and take no other husband while he probably meets his Lady Lyanna in the afterlife. Even in his death, Robert will never be faithful to me.

Perhaps I was, once again, being unfair to my husband. He had wept into my shoulder and kissed me with passion and gentleness all at once -even now, he rubs my belly in calming circles and wakes every few moments to whisper that _we did it again, we did it together_. He deserved better than someone who thought so little of him when the mood struck her to do so.

And so I lay my hand atop his while we slept, and the gold and green didn't come to me that night.

The haunting colour, though, came well enough to me as soon as the world saw it most inconvenient to my wellness.

Pycelle had declared that, at least for now, I was to mostly keep to my bed as the babe seems to be taking a larger toll on my body than it would on most mothers. And so in Robert's usual fashion, he forwent an expected feast -which I would have been happy for him to have without me, and instead he invited his high lords of the small council to come to my rooms and congratulate my for themselves.

Jon Arryn walked in with such purpose first, and he made his way to my bed, bending his knee lowly when we reached me and kissing my hand gratefully when he rose. Even though it may have made me happy to instill some twisted pride in the man I kept confusing with a father-figure it still rode to wake the stubbornness in me when he looked at me like I had listened to what he'd told me after all. _I haven't listened to a damned thing. I have done the opposite._

The other Lords followed tersely and presented me with fine service people to "help ease the journey" better. Tywin Lannister was the last to approach me, and even my cousin Stannis warmed me better than he. He didn't smile or bring his chin down from the raised dais it sat on as he congratulated me in a nearly recited manner and present me with the finest seamstress from Lannisport.

"I had sent for her to tend to my daughter in Storm's End since she will be giving birth any day now, but I assume she'll have no trouble getting her figure back."

"You're too kind, my lord." His tuft of blonde was only starting to grey and I thought it suited him well since the best gold I had known belonged to a man who had no such bitterness and ill-will for me.

And yet as my eyes danced from Lord Lannister to the familiar golden locks that I hadn't noticed stood right outside my doorway -the same doorway we had stood in just a day ago and kissed by making unspoken promises, the spell had shattered to shards of messy pieces and Jaime Lannister stood with betrayal in his eyes unnoticeable by everyone but I. I knew, I knew why.

I wasn't left alone as I was confined to my rooms, nearly a fortnight had passed and I was still only allowed to explore the contours of my room like a babe fresh out of the womb, and when I was finally given enough leave to enjoy a walk in the gardens on my own I still felt my legs shiver at both the chance I might see _him_ and the weakness that still lined them -the weakness I would still not allow anyone to see. And yet he did not make himself known, nor did he come to me as he said he would -it made me think that all those times I would scarcely go a day without seeing him, all those times we just suddenly seemed to be there when I needed it, could they have been his doing?

When a month passed, Robert got the feast he wanted, and I still longed for the singular kiss that I so craved. All the lords and ladies danced with another -except me. They all kissed and made bawdy jokes about babymaking -except me. The bards sang and Gerion Lannister stood on a table and told tales of his travels whilst everyone listened -except me. I just watched. And I only watched one thing. _Jaime, he is surely Jaime to me now. Only Jaime._

It was he, _Jaime, Jaime, Jaime,_ who escorted me back to my chambers that night in silence -just as he had done in the Eyrie. Only this time I clung to him in weakened health and a surely unchivalrous want to be close to him, but he did not move. He was stone, pure stone, as his rigid elbow remained interlocked with mine, and by the time we reached the empty hall that lead to my chambers I could no longer stand that silence that was tearing through everything I thought I had felt with him.

 _If I hadn't kissed him, if I hadn't pushed myself close to him in that nursery, he would not be silent and cold to me now. What kind of a mess had I started?_

I turned to him -making him turn to me in the process quite forcefully if I were to frank, and I faced him the way I hadn't been able to since the " _Gods had blessed me with an heir for my King_ ". I made my eyes bore into his to fool him into my false sense of determination at resolving this -I was so scared, still. Of what, I still had yet to find out.

"I'm sorry, I-" My eyes lost their resolve when they faced the growing emotion in his, and I cast them down in some sort of shame. Making unspoken promises you can't keep had its own kind of shame, did it not?

"I live to serve you. Isn't that right, my Queen?" He interrupted me bitterly, and his elbow dropped almost roughly from mine as he took a step back.

It was harsh, it _felt_ harsh, but still I reached out to his armour, to the thing that _made_ him, and tried to plea for his understanding.

"Jaime.."

"Queens can't be improper with those that serve them. You should be more careful, someone might get confused." He walked away into the dark of the hall and with his heavy steps went all the steps we had made together to give each other comfort where comfort would never endure. And still, no matter how I may have willed it, he continued walking away from me.

That was it. That was what I had to fear.

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 **Well, well, well, well, well, how the tables have tabled.**

 **Be sure to let me know what you think of this!**


	12. The Prince That Was Promised

**A/N: Just want to thank all the readers, followers and people that have favourites this story! Your support means so much to me.**

 **In response to sadasdsds: I think you may have misread the previous chapters -Jaime and Helaena never did anything but kiss so far. Helaena is pregnant with Robert's child from the time they did it in the Vale.**

 **Bit of a shorter chapter just to fill you guys in. Enjoy :)**

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A mere month after my second pregnancy was announced and celebrated did Cersei welcome her own child into this world. A girl, with her father's eyes and hair as Stannis had reported, named Shireen. I could not travel to see or celebrate her in my state, and so Robert and Renly accompanied by the Kingsguard save for Ser Meryn and Ser Borous sailed to Dragonstone for the new Baratheon's festivities.

Even as they said their farewells and sailed away Ser Jaime would not look at me -he hadn't been able to, not since the last time we spoke plainly as Helaena and Jaime. I waved good bye to them -all of them, at the docks that day, and prayed for the first time that Robert would return to me swiftly -for the loneliness was suffocating with no one to relieve it.

It was only Lord Arryn and I at court for a whole moon. Maester Pycelle's company was never asked for on my part, Lord Varys's was definitely too cryptic and eerie for me to even tolerate in my state and Lord Tywin, well, even if he had not gone to see his daughter I doubt i'd have much to say to that man.

Thanks to Pycelle and the frailness this pregnancy forced upon me I was bedridden for half my pregnancy. No wine, no sour berries, no red meat -though that was mostly because I couldn't keep it down long enough to digest it, no walks outside the Red Keep. No, I only had my lady's maid who had once again become my protectors at night whilst Robert was away, and Jon Arryn who, when he was not busy running Robert's kingdom in his stead, would share his meals with me and tell me all about his days.

When Robert returned, with Renly thankfully with him, he asked that he sleep in my bed -even though I was growing large with our child. To my surprise, he didn't even try to touch me like _that_ when he curved into me at night -he only rested his large hand on the growing bump on my belly and set his eyes down for a peaceful sleep. I had never been accustomed to him sleeping next to me -especially so often, and yet I felt like it was preferable to me than being surrounded by a retinue of lady's maids. And in truth, it was heartening to find that even though I could probably not give Robert what he wanted at that time in the way of _wifely duties_ he was not spending his night's with someone else in his bed. I am his Queen, and I can not be replaced so easily. The only difficulty that came with Robert's new sleep destination came whenever I thought of Ser Jaime standing guard outside or him meeting my husband's eyes when he left my room in the morning. I would lay down and think -what does he think of me? Does he still think of me at all? even with my husband holding me close to him and my daughter in her bassinet.

I welcomed Robert's wordless show of sexual restraint -I was ever so grateful for it initially. But as I grew bigger and felt something change in my body, in the very blood that coursed through me, I felt a need inside me grow for something I have never before needed. My husband would press himself against me at night while he slept, and sometimes i'd wake to find myself shamelessly whining against any sort of pressure his sleeping form would afford me with.

Everything just grew hotter and _tighter_ around me the heavier I got and the stifling need could no longer contain itself -I had to ask for help. And so I asked my husband as he lay by my side one night. I buried my head in the pillow as I asked him to touch me half-hoping it would be too muffled for him to hear -but my hopes were expelled with some sort of relief when he wordlessly -and with some excitement, moved his large hand to the very place I'd find my own hand clenching when I woke from particularly sinful dreams. It was clumsy, probably due to the fact that neither one of us knew one another's bodies well enough or truly at all, and it was safe to say that neither one of us got any real satisfaction out of what came to be an _ordeal._ I kept reaching for something that, with every passing day or dream, seemed more and more unattainable. Perhaps it was never my fate to know pleasure -maybe it was all a lie and it was true what they said that it was only men that stood to gain any pleasure from the bed chamber. But I had heard enough whores for a lifetime -not to say that their word was to be taken too seriously, but they seemed to be having a good enough time. Could I not have the same? We never spoke about it again, but the next night and the night after that Robert would lean in to try once again. And I, being the newly arraigned good sport that I am, would let him. There were instances, of course, where pleasure was found -but it wasn't enough. There was no... _end_. No _peak_. Nothing that could make me grip sheets or scream out in muffled groans the way Robert did when he would finish inside me. I tried, truly I did, but my continued growth and exponentially falling health would not even let me see it through -I had to ask Robert to stop sleeping next to me eventually since he was not the best bedfellow to have when i'd wake with sickness or occasional flatulence.

My husband's younger _younger_ brother, however was a much too welcome delight to have. It almost made me regret having him there whenever we would sit together, for I would think of what would happen if I truly was carrying an heir to the Kingdom. An heir would be the Prince of Dragonstone -meaning that after enough time if not immediately, Stannis would be going back to rightfully claim his seat at Storm's End...perhaps that would mean that Renly would go back with him? I still hadn't had my fill of him -I doubted I ever would. He was not a son to me, but a companion and the first sunshine to my loneliness here at the Capital. But I knew that Storm's End was not all that bad for him, and with Stannis's presence there Renly would perhaps be a little less lonely. Plus, there was a new babe for him to play with in Stannis's daughter -and Renly so loved playing with Cleora I doubt he'd not miss it if he didn't have a babe to show off in front of.

"Will you love him more than me?" He asked me one day with a hand to my well-rounded stomach.

"Oh, is it a him?" I asked in feigned obliviousness.

He folded his arms into himself and leaned back on his chair -obviously miffed at my not taking him seriously enough which was a big enough sore spot for him with Robert anyway.

I brought myself down to his level -which was no easy feat if one were paying any mind to my protruding stomach, and placed a hand -swollen as it was, on the handsome little boy's cheek.

"I could never love anyone the way I love you." And it wasn't a lie. I knew it the moment I had Cleora. I loved Renly in a different way than I did to my own child or children, and that was something that no one in the world could ever take away from me.

The long summer waged on and months passed until the sun had turned and it was Cleora's name day. I could hardly believe it had been a year - _only_ a year, and yet here I was once again large with a growing babe and barely able to contain the one left to crawl on the grassy knolls. I couldn't decide whether it felt too little or too much time that could span over all that had happened within them. Cleora, for one, was crawling now and her hair was growing black and thick like her father's. "Ma" she would say to me, and "Da" she'd scream when Robert threw her up like a ball of washed cloth only to catch her. Even Renly Cleora had taken to calling "Bobo" whenever he played with her, and the little prince would sigh out in exasperation trying to teach the now toddler that his name was " _Renly, not Bobo!"._

Robert and I had changed, too. A little for the better, a little for the worse, but undeniably a family. Sometimes happy, rarely peaceful, and at many instances begrudging -but still no one could ever take that away from us. Not without a fight. Not Robert's whores or whatever mistress he'd take to his bed, and not any knight that came to me in my sleep and shirked me when we were awake could change the irrevocable bond Robert and I's blood now stood to make. But just because change was impermissible it didn't mean that I had forgotten -or that the feel of those soft lips never lingered. Even with his back turned to me and his jaw strained tight I still willed myself not to place my hand on his shoulder or move a stray golden curl from his face or even just enjoy the pleasure of his company. The last time I was with child I felt a little less disgusted with myself for many reasons -the least of which were my constant growing pains, but then I had someone who would call me _radiant_ even if it was an obvious joke. I had someone to make me laugh. And while Robert carried Cleora around the high lords to collect her gifts from them and they eventually disappeared into a myriad of black and gold ribbons I wondered to what extent I had hurt Jaime -and whether perhaps his coldness had hurt me more than I could dare admit.

Was that what this was now? Something that was capable of hurting me?

It was two more moons after Cleora's name day that the woman's curse came to claim its battle with me.

I felt it in the air the moment I awoke that summer morning. The air was damp and heavy with something that was coming, and by midday it had started raining in a place that hardly ever rained. I pretended not to hear the thunder sounding and the people cry for shelter in the streets, and plucked at the dinner that I barely had any appetite for. The wind howled and wept through my window when I retired that night, and though it may have sounded close to what I remembered summer storms to be on Estermont it did not _feel_ the same. This storm was damper and drier all at the same time, and heavy with damnation.

I woke that night with a start of pain, and uncovered myself to find I was bleeding out of where I had not bled in nine moons past. My labour had begun, and yet the voice I used to scream could not carry through the unforgiving storm to call for help. Hovering dangerously on my feet, I walked as briskly as I could to the door feeling and unknown mix of blood and labour water trickle down my legs and opened the sealing partition to yell at whoever I could find.

"Get the Maester!" And all I saw was a white cloak turn to dash in whichever direction I had sent him to.

It felt like forever that I waited pressed against the door with a sweaty brown for the Maester to come; and still he was not there. What other business could he have need to attend to? He has one job, and it is to tend to what ails me and the rest of the royal brood.

Losing patience in my moment of unrefined madness in the thralls of labour I pushed myself off and walked the halls myself in my bare feet. I had no idea what or who I was looking for, but still I continued on in the direction of the stairs wailing out for the Mother as the storm brought my cries to silence.

Still unsure whether it was a dream brought to me by the insanity of the storm I saw the lion approach me disheveled and crazed in the eye of the storm, and his call for help was swallowed whole when I fell into his arms. My feet were off the damp ground, and even through the smell of dust and the outside I could smell what only Jaime smelled like as my feverish dream took over once more.

"Tell the Mother to have mercy on me, please! She won't listen to me! Tell her i'll be good. I promise i'll be good, I swear it!" I muttered out in desperation when yet another contraction tore through me, and while my eyes were still closed I felt myself shift from one pair of strong arms to another and then set upon a bed.

"She was wandering the halls like this." I heard him say, and when I opened my eyes it wasn't the owner of that voice facing me but my husband's blue eyes that I met with.

"Helaena! She's awake!" Robert made to leave to bring Pycelle in his place but I crushed his hand that was holding mine to stay in place.

"Don't leave me, cousin. Do the Gods hear you? Pray for me..."

The birthing chamber was not kinder to me the second time, even with Robert by my side, than it was the first -not even in the slightest bit. By the end of it, screaming out into the break of dawn, I brought yet another babe out into this unforgiving world -and I prayed in the midst of the pain I suffered that it not be a girl to suffer the same.

For the first time in forever, my prayers were answered. It was a boy. A beautiful, beautiful baby boy with blue eyes and dark hair. The prince that was promised.

Steffon, we named him, in honour of Robert's father. Cleora may have belonged to her father, but Steffon belonged to no one but the Kingdom. Even in my loosened state after the birth I heard the crowds outside gather and cheer for days upon days at my son's birth and chant his name through the streets for all to know; the prince had arrived. He was strong, even as such a small babe and an apparently weak mother whose pregnancies were from easy, he belted out and had a wail that would match his older sister's.

It was barely a moon's turn before Robert was talking of betrothals again.

 _"If Ned has a daughter we'll have them marry, and our houses will join together."_ Just the way it was meant to be since the very beginning, I knew he was thinking it. _"Maybe i'll even have him fostered there."_ He had suggested but I had, of course, refused profusely. This boy was mine -all mine, in a way that not even Robert could attest me when it came to Renly. He is Steffon of house Baratheon, second of his name, crown prince of the Seven Kingdoms, and his place is with me -just as his sister's is. My son would be king one day if the Gods are good to any of us, and while little girls are for their fathers boys become men and learn from their mothers. It may be the father's seed that plants princes in our bellies; but it's the mother's milk that makes Kings.

I was mother to a future king at last, and yet _still_ there was room for disdain and dishonesty in court. I had no idea why I was still so surprised. Be it upturned noses at the frailty of my health after birth -as if it were unnatural for a woman to be weakened just because she had birthed the long awaited heir, or the whispers that Robert would still have Stannis be prince of Dragonstone -suggesting that even Steffon was weaker in health than I. I heard everything and said nothing. Even on the day that my son was to be formally presented to court I found it the most curious thing that people would so readily fawn over the thing I held in arms -the things that I had made, that I had birthed, that was _half_ me _,_ and yet still they carried on and addressed me like I was unworthy. I could see their heads mounted on the spikes that lined the city gates if I so wished -my husband is the King. I could see them tortured, their giggles turned into cries of agony -my husband is the King. I could have each and everyone of them married off to whatever least desirable thing they can think of -I am the Queen. I carried my pride, my skirts and my son out of the throne room that day with a spine made of steel and a heart that would crumble for nothing less than my own children's heartbreak. They are what I have to live for, they are what I hold dear. If there is any weakness in this world that should consume me, it is only them.

And yet for all my strength and considered weaknesses I was still a prisoner to my wants with ever so many disregards to propriety.

 _Look at me, look at me._ I would think to myself with his back turned on me, and still he would not deem me fit enough to look at. Could it be from his own shame, I wonder? If so i'd reckon the lion of Lannister to be a liar after all -I wonder which one of us is more false in that regard. I would only catch him glancing my way when I was not meant to be looking, and his lonely green eyes confirmed to me everything that i had once doubted. There was hurt in there, surely, some bitterness and furthermore a sense of longing that only I would dare call it that. This was the man that asked me no permissions when he kissed me -the man that dared tell the Queen that she was false, and yet he would say that it was out of pride that he spoke none of what he felt. I knew it was not pride; it was the clear want and the realisation that it would have to be rejected. It was an omission that was supposed to deceive me. Everyone lies here, be it to my face or by omission, everyone lies.

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 **Review, review, review!**


	13. Surrender

**A/N: Something i've noticed -and i've actually grown to love this, is that my story is obviously listed as a Jaime fic which means that people come here to READ a JAIME FIC and somehow so many of you have ended up shipping Robert with my OC! It's amazing to me -truly, cause it means i'm doing my job right. This wasn't supposed to be easy -and honey, it's not about to get any easier. **

**Guest: I'm really glad you think that of Helaena because guess what? She's supposed to be flawed. I didn't want to have another wishy washy story where Person B is a Total Dick to Person A and so Person A is _driven_ to Person C. This is about a _choice_ , an _attraction_ , a thing that 'can not be helped'. It's about getting a taste of something you thought never even existed and now it's all you can think about. Thank you so much for your review and pointing that out because I didn't want someone to just be Team Helaena and not recognize that there's a part of Robert that's trying. See this through to the end, and you'll see just how fast some of these kids have to grow up.**

 **mianav: Your review literally got me started on this chapter even though I had just finished/published the previous one so thank you so much for your encouragement!**

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As Robert would have it -and this time the council did no such thing to fight him, a tourney was to be had for Steffon's birth. But alas it seemed my poor little prized prince would have to share this occasion with his uncle Stannis's return to Storm's End.

We were to go to Storm's End for the tourney, and I was to see once again the fortress in which I had played with my husband as a child and where both my father and previous husband's bones were returned to me from. _Would I see your ghost there, papa? Would you tell me how unworthy I have been?_ I prayed to the Mother for mercy the last time I faced her and I vowed i'd be good -I vowed i'd be a faithful wife and queen and never reach for anything that was not within my rights to reach for, and though the birthing bed wasn't kind to me and the pain was ample I still got a boy out of my suffering. I swore i'd at least try to uphold my end of the exchange.

The boat that I saw ship Renly away from me twice and Robert once was now boarded by me and my children as well. It wasn't a long journey -not by a long shot, but the familiar motion of the sea beneath me gave me such nostalgic joy for a time where that was all I had ever known.

" _Get your feet back on dry land else you'd get crazed!"_ My father would tell me and Andrew when we'd push our luck hiding away from him for hours on a small sailboat that could just fit the two of us.

It was the safest place I could think of -no matter what we wanted to get out of the sailboat was always there and it always meant we could be together. There was something about not having your feet on the ground -of the _floating_ , that made me feel suspended somewhere far off where no one else could reach me. Whenever Robert would complain to me on our journey about how boring the motion sickness was getting i'd tell him that every wave was different, and i'd turn to Renly and tell him of the sirens that clutched the ends of our ship beneath us hoping to catch at least one weak man to sing their song of victory to.

"Do sirens really exist, Helaena?" He asked me with wide eyes.

"Why of course they do!" I leaned in to fix Cleora's hat now that she was in Robert's lap and turned once more to Renly, "Their songs are screeching noises -but to men it sounds like the sweetest silk against their ears. That's how they get them, the men go willingly to their deaths as long as it is in their sweet arms." Renly's mouth dropped in horror whilst I kept myself from giggling aloud.

"So...so...if I hear them sing...does that mean i'll...?"

"Well... _i'm_ safe, so I suppose if you're a very good boy and you stop leaning over the railings so often then I could hold you back from jumping ship. How does that sound?" _Every story has to come with a lesson._ It was less than virtuous of me -but if I had to suffer another heart palpitation every time I caught that boy almost falling over board of his own accord I was sure I wouldn't live to see my children grow.

Renly's eventual acquiesce was cut off by Robert's rumble of laughter.

"I should have expected as much from a girl of the Isles!"

It was nice to laugh, especially when Cleora was just learning to do so. It was the sweetest sound I had ever heard. She'd catch our own laughter and within seconds it was bubbling through her -she made laughter contagious. Even when Robert was hot off his head yelling at his poor squire or in the middle of an argument with Jon Arryn -one threatening smile from Cleora was all it took and he was done. Robert was what he very rarely ever was -peaceful, content with what was there, _quiet._

Jon Arryn had stayed behind in the Capital this time. It seemed that the last time both the King and the Hand were not in the Capital things got a bit too _loose_ from what I could understand even with Stannis heading the council meetings. I was not a fool, nor do I underestimate my cousin's sense of control and efficiency, but I knew enough of Tywin Lannister to know that he wasn't above twisting his way into power -especially when it was still so delicate. But this time there was not even Tywin Lannister to head the council, for it was only proper that the lion pay a visit to his lioness.

When we arrived at Storm's End Stannis and his wife were already there and Renly briskly obliged us by introducing Cleora and myself to baby Shireen. She was like they said in the letters -blue of eyes and black of hair, but she had her mother's sharp cheekbones and full mouth. She was a perfect little girl who seemed to thaw her father's heart just as my own had done to hers. Her mother, however, looked out of place -uncomfortable even if some would dare say, with the babe in her arms, and by the way she reacted when Renly hovered by her side and Cleora leaned in to marvel at Shireen I could tell that she would look out of place with _any_ babe in her arms. _Perhaps she still needs to get used to it all._

A great feast was to be had on the night we arrived and many of Robert's -now Stannis's bannermen came to welcome their liege lord and bask in the presence of their King.

I had seen Robert grope young ladies at feasts, I had witnessed his eyes wander even when I sat next to him -for Gods' sakes I stood outside his door while he took his whores and dishonoured both I and our marriage. But rarely had I ever been as jealous or angry at the sigh of his infidelities than I was as I watched Cersei Lannister eye him with those pretty green eyes. Robert paid her no mind -for the most part, but that stony silence and unwavering pride melted away to reveal a shell of a young woman with a smooth voice and sweet temperament whenever she spoke to her king. Her husband didn't even look at her when she approached Robert. Even when she danced with him, Stannis did not so much as look her way. Her father said nothing, nor her brother either even though I was well aware that they both had their eyes trained on her. No one said anything. They all just watched it happen, they all just watched as the lioness tried to sink her claws into my husband before the entire celebration.

Was this Cersei Lannister's grand scheme? Or was it Tywin Lannister's all along? I knew the old lion would not grow so complacent after all. What is it he wished to achieve? His daughter was the lady of Storm's End, her child niece to the King and cousin to the Crown Prince. But of course, his daughter wasn't Queen. Was he hoping for the next best thing? Was _this_ how Tywin Lannister wanted to have his sway in court, by striking while my husband was drunk and happy and the man that represented his conscience was not around to warn him?

Cersei sat back down next to Stannis's now empty seat since he had taken it upon himself to retire Renly -he insisted I stay with the celebration. Was he making me watch, too? Because of Stannis's absence, who was previously sitting on my right, his wife now sat a seat away from me.

"Do you find Storm's End charming, Lady Baratheon?" I knew my answer and yet I still asked. I didn't bother looking into those green eyes to know they were insincere and bored -I am not that great of a fool.

"Not yet in the way that i'm sure you do coming from the Stormlands yourself, your grace." _I see. So since this place is not good enough for you it must surely be good enough for me._

"Yes, I suppose court was more to your speed, my lady. And besides, your little girl will be enough entertainment as i'm sure you're already aware."

"Yes, she surely is." She answered me with a light wash of regret over her and she reached determinedly for her goblet to drink away whatever haunted her as a reminder.

 _"_ I will be sad to see less of you at court, my lady."

"Storm's End is not that far, your grace." _I wish it was on the other end of the country._

I smiled sweetly to her and turned back around to look around the room aimlessly. Well, it was aimless until my eyes landed on where they usually did when they had no particular aim -or perhaps one could say they had a singular sort of aim, Ser Jaime Lannister. He didn't flinch away from my gaze, but it didn't feel like he was staring at me even though it was in my direction. His eyes held suspicion, and I realised that he was looking at his sister and not I.

At that I shot up out of my chair and announced my retirement for the evening. Robert kissed my hand before I left, and as I made my way up to my rooms the anger in my step made me take a different direction altogether.

I ended up in Robert's room somehow and even though he was now a King in a castle that was technically not his own it felt like this was the room he had when he was young in Storm's End. I must have been here once, when I was still so very young, and he showed me the clearest view of the bay from his window. I walked to the window sill hoping i'd found the unforgettable view in which Robert would point out to me all the spots Stannis would sulk and hawk and all the corners he'd kissed pretty girls in. It wasn't the same view, but the memory of that visit lingered on a while longer even as the room's familiarity began to fade.

 _"Would you like me to kiss you, cousin Helaena?"_ We were young children -I myself not yet ten years old, and yet when he asked me that I could see it in my mind's eye perfectly, clear as day, I could see our lips meet and a kiss somehow formed between us clumsy children, _just like Mama and Papa would do,_ I thought at the time.

 _"Do you know how?"_ For some reason that was the only thing that troubled me by his question -whether his austerity clouded his actual expertise.

 _"Of course I know how!"_

 _"I don't think it would be proper, cousin Robert."_

If I had let him kiss me all those years ago, could he have loved me like he did Lyanna? Could this marriage be of far more convenience, despite his flaws and mine? I wondered what it'd be like for the first time since before I was ever married in the first place what it would be like to be in love with Robert, and that maybe if I had loved him in that way so faithfully and for so long then I might be able to stand all his other misgivings.

Thoughts of my love that never was came to a halt when my husband finally entered his rooms.

He was barely standing on his own two feet, and though I turned around to face him from where I stood by the window my presence was still unknown to him as he struggled to stumble to the bed whilst kicking his boots off.

With a mind still full of so much smoked clarity I marched to him; to battle, and once I reached his large form my hands reached for his elbows and brought him down to kiss him mightily on the lips.

"Helaena..." I didn't give him time to finish. Some unnamed power rushed through me at the thought once more of Cersei Lannister touching what I was touching -of that blonde goddess bringing a smile to my husband's lips with her ample breasts and full lips, and I pulled Robert back to me ferociously for more of what his drunken lips could offer me.

For someone so drunk and seemingly incapable of finding his way to his own bed Robert surely had no difficulty in finding my body pressed against his and holding me closer to him.

"Couldn't stay away, could you?" Robert whispered damningly in my ear as he tore off my fair blue gown and tossed it to one side in a number of seconds. Is this what all his whores squeal about? I was starting to see the appeal.

His strong hands engulfed me completely and we eventually found our collective way to his bed. He kissed me all over my chest and his stubble prickled my skin as a harsh reminder that he was there to ruffle my feathers. When he entered me it felt new and foreign somehow, so unlike all those others times he came to me without facing me -it was like we were back up in the mountains. Except that this time it was I who was taking more initiative than could ever be expected of me.

The collection of grating dreams and pressing feelings of increased sensuality over my long pregnancy forced my hands up and over all parts of Robert, and before I knew it I found a small pleasure blooming inside of me every time his hushed groans would be silenced on my exposed neck. He bit my shoulder as he climaxed, and through the dull new ache of my nearly punctured skin I somehow moulded myself into the crook of Robert's arm -somehow finally a part of my husband, and we breathed out together into the cooling salted air.

I smiled at the memory of what I thought we had nearly done in what I thought was this very room in comparison to the very _worldly_ pleasures we found here tonight.

"Do you remember when you tried to kiss me here?" He wrapped his free hand around me comfortingly and covered his eyes in tiredness before chuckling out his answer.

"I think at that age I was trying my damned best to kiss everyone. My mother had just about had enough of me." I stroked his rough cheek gently and he looked back at me with a question in his clear blue eyes.

"Have _you_ had your fill of me?" He asked, his always present confidence gone completely. I turned away from those demanding orbs of blue and faced the cracked ceiling above us.

"I promised the Gods i'd be good. This is good, isn't it?" There was not a moment of silence between my answer and his own.

"To hells with the Gods."

"You can't say that." I turned back sharply and pushed him away slightly so that I could sit up on my elbow and lightly slap his chest half-heartedly. He brought his right hand up to his chest to lay atop mine and began idly playing with my thin fingers before forming an answer.

"I watched the ship that held my parents break apart and get swallowed by the sea right in front of my eyes. I owe the Gods nothing." I couldn't look at him when he held so much loss like that. So unlike Renly, who knew nothing, and so unlike Stannis who made his decision forcefully and chose to move on. Robert made decisions and formed opinions that he forgot about -sometimes even ones he would try his hardest to forget.

"But aye, this is good." He pulled me in closer after our solemn turn of conversation, and I lay my head on his bare chest and heard the heart I often thought was not there drum steadily against my ear.

"What did you love about her?" He knew I wasn't talking about his mother, I could tell by the way he stiffed against me once the question left my lips.

But to my surprise, my husband answered me -even as we lay naked against one another as man and wife.

"I don't know. Just...something. She was so...beautiful. And free." _That's why you can never love me -I am neither of those things, especially now._

"What about you? Did you love Roland well?" He asked suddenly, and I nearly laughed at the implication. My affection for my perished husband could hardly start a war.

"I barely knew him. But he had a kind heart." That much could surely be said about him. He was handsome, too, and was always gentle with me.

"I'm sure he loved you. It's hard not to, you're the siren of Estermont." He was laughing already, but I could not bring myself to. Love and I were two things that had scarce ever met, not when it was between a man and his lady.

"But _you_ don't." It left me quietly, and even as it came out I doubted myself as to whether Robert could hear it. But when his laughter stopped, I knew what he had heard.

"No...not really like that." _Not like Lyanna._ It didn't sting, it didn't hurt. If anything, it selfishly made me feel far better about myself than I had in months.

"Do you...?" He trailed off, and I knew my answer before I even said it no matter what the Gods could think of me in that moment.

"No, not really like that." It was the most honest we had ever been to one another -we had a habit of being like that when we weren't in King's Landing. Something about being away from all that treachery and deceit cleansed our souls and made them new, and the farther we strayed from the memory of the city and the crowns we bore, the more and more I felt like this is where Robert and I belonged -somewhere in Storm's End, playing in his room.

The tourney was to be had by the end of the week as Storm's End continued to await and welcome many more coming lords, and in the meantime I got to see a different side to Stannis once again -the side that stuck true to his element.

It must have brought him some resentment, surely, to have Robert overshadow the memory of his accession to what was now his birthright. But in some ways Robert's presence there allowed for Stannis to have a type of freedom that his disposition, status and pride had never before allowed of him, and as a result of that I saw more of him in that week than I probably had in all his back and forth trips to King's Landing. Stannis and Renly and I would go out riding at the break of dawn often, and even though I was _deathly_ afraid of anything with wings and a beak i'd stand by and watch Stannis teach his younger brother how to hawk -it was also quite funny watching him losing his temper and patience whenever Renly was having his bouts of disobedience. Watching Renly with my good sister, though, was an entirely different experience.

I was aware that _perhaps_ it could be said that I had a penchant for worrying when it came to Renly -as one would have over his own children, even, but i'm sure that if someone bore witness to her treatment of Renly they would think her unfitting to care for such a sensitive boy -especially when there was no _King Robert_ there for her to sweeten her tongue to. It was not a hard feat -it couldn't be, to be at least marginally sensitive to Renly's growing needs and his imagination instead of shooting him down at every turn. His spirit as a result was always dull in her presence, and I recall at some point she had shooed him away harshly from touching Shireen when he had previously been outside playing.

Everyone says that Stannis is honourable -that he knows his duty, but I know him far better than to know his esteem for either of those things is anything more than decent. Stannis valued justice above all else -so how was it that he could so easily turn a blind eye to his wife while she turned on her charms for my husband and treated his youngest brother so ill? No lioness, not even a woman as beautiful as Cersei Lannister, could be that blinding to Stannis. No, not _my_ Stannis.

The day before the tourney at breakfast I kept my eyes trained on Renly as he bounced around from one table to the next, _never could stay still in one place, that one,_ until my eyes were brought back to my husband and the conversation I was unaware that he was having.

"Kingslayer here wants to compete in the jousts again! Haven't had enough of defeat, I see!" Ser Jaime stood in front of our raised dais casually, and his smiles that had been in rare circulation in my presence as of late made a reappearance as he smirked up at the King.

"I see no harm in trying, your grace."

"There is always virtue to be found in trying, Ser, no matter what the pursuit." I spoke up with a smirk of my own. I for one was intrigued to see how his participation would endure this time around.

The rest of the day resumed as usual except for the feel of Ser Jaime's lingering eyes on me. Had I done something wrong again? Was I now not allowed to speak or address him in any way just because of a kiss that occurred over nine months ago? It didn't feel that far away though, it felt so close, like it was in a safe box in my mind and close enough for my memories to always reach whenever I dreamt.

By the time dinner had come around I was silently fuming once more at Cersei. Renly was at her side, asking her all about Casterly Rock, and she had ignored him until he asked her about her younger brother -the imp, to which she replied that he was a devil that looked much like him. I stood harshly from my seat and found my protectiveness gave me enough standing to domineer over the haughty lady and take Renly's hand to retire him for the night.

When I took him to bed he asked me if he truly was a demon, and I had to comb through his hair until he fell asleep and remind that he was still my sweet, beautiful boy. On my way back I swiftly checked on my two babes asleep in the nursery before I marched back to the dining hall and leaned over to whisper in Robert's ear.

"I need a word."

Of course my husband thought that a _word_ could loosely be translated to groping me most ungraciously in his rooms minutes later, but I pushed him away far enough so he would listen.

"I want Renly at court with us, permanently." It was enough of a shock to make his hand slip off my arse and dart to his forehead in confusion.

"Why would you say that? It was you who said you didn't want him to be alone here -now he won't be! He'll have Stannis-" I cut him off right as he was trying to quote myself back to me.

"Stannis serves you in King's Landing, he'll hardly be here. And Cersei...I neither trust nor want her around Renly. Stannis is unmovable so I needn't worry about him when it comes to her, but Renly is still so young and i'd prefer him with me, with _us_." I barely contained his large hands in my own as I looked up at him, imploring him to accept and see what truly was right for Renly this time.

"You sure are possessive over your Baratheons." He smiled wickedly, and kissed my neck lazily as he tried to resume his earlier activities. I paid no mind -I knew he knew it was right, and so I let him kiss me slowly before I eventually pulled myself away from him.

"Don't go."

"Not tonight." My head was at too severe an ache after a particularly bad episode that day with both Steffon and Cleora crying hard enough to summon the Drowned God.

I stepped out of his room in the dark night, and just as luck would have it there was only one person the Gods would deem fit to escort me back to my room that night -Jaime Lannister.

"So you are competing tomorrow, truly, Ser?" I asked him as we walked back in mostly silence, no longer able to bear it. I didn't care if he brushed me off or answered me with his usual carelessness, I was too tired to make it matter, but the deafening silence had to be stopped.

"It won't serve me well to back out now, your grace." I smiled to myself at that. He always was ever so prideful, perhaps even more so than Robert.

"Surely it won't win you any favours with the King to keep competing against him, you know." It was only the lightest and slightly playful of warnings, but I knew it to be true. Robert longed for competition and someone to stand up to him -but only enough for him to push over. And a repeated rival would irk Robert before it'd bore him.

"Perhaps it's not the King's favour that I seek." _Then what is it you do seek, golden lion of Lannister?_

"Good night, Ser Jaime." I slipped into my rooms swiftly after his cryptic response and thanked the Seven that I had no dreams of anything that night.

When the tourney came upon us the next day one could only dare to say that it was the most Baratheon thing one could ever witness. It was loud, adorned in black and gold all around, and the air smelled only of salt. Even through the insisting presence of black and gold I wore my green dress -they were my house colours, still, and walked through the procession surely sticking out like a sore thumb. Once again I sat assigned to my box but this time instead of only having Renly by my side I was also joined by Stannis and his wife.

Cleora sat in Renly's lap since he had gotten quite adept at handling her plays for freedom and I saw no need for her to be assigned to the nurse, especially when her father was determined to put on a show for her brother's sake. If it surprised anyone the first time Robert competed in a tourney in honour of a royal child it certainly did not surprise anyone this time seeing as it was his heir the tourney was being held for.

"Who do you think will win, Helaena?" Renly kept asking, and each time I gave him the same answer.

"Your brother, of course." For surely he would have more than a few words with me should I name anyone else.

As expected, the tourney went on with no problems save for a few skirmishes and I dared say that this time some of the knights were actually putting up a bit more of a fight when going against Robert. But still, as everyone knew, Robert out lanced each and every one of them with far too much ease. And I was not sure whether I was surprised or not to find Ser Jaime in the same fighting spirit as he had been the last time he competed -would he really be so insistent on facing the king in the tourney?

It came to its finalè the same way the first royal tourney I attended did -with the stag and the lion facing one another again.

There were so many things that everyone expected that day, even I. The decor so truly Baratheon, the Stormlords loud and brash, the King winning over all the knights that dared to come his way and the ending joust that finished with one swift charge. But it was the victor to the final joust, and the ease in which he emerged victorious that surprised everyone in attendance.

Ser Jaime Lannister sat on his horse high with pride and no smile on his face while Robert squirmed on the ground surrounded by his squires. Everyone in attendance held their breath for the cry of faithlessness -for the call to rematch, but it never came. At least not from Robert. My husband merely got up and dusted the dirt off of his breeches. He started the clap for the Kingslayer and shook his hand briskly before walking off the field -but I saw his eyes glimmer in the rage so deep he would rarely even let me bear witness to it. In that moment, confused over the Lannister's victory and the swarms of the crowd, I felt a strange pride for my husband's show of restraint even though he did not win. It was humbling to know that Robert was still growing.

"Helaena look!" Renly brought me back to our current company and made me look back out onto the field where Ser Jaime had just gotten the beloved crown of roses from the pier.

 _He'll crown his sister this time around, of course._ I thought to myself as he made our way to our box, and I spied his sister's favour still dangling from his lance. _Finally, the victory you always wanted. I hope this brings you happiness._

To my shock, and by some mistake in the universe, his lance pointed at me when it got to our box, and my eyes found him in a desperate call to end the humiliating confusion. But when I looked at him I found nothing but the finest clarity and purpose, and his voice came only a moment after confirming what I thought could never be true.

"For our True Queen." It was the first time I was ever crowned anything other than Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

After a hesitant moment, the entire crowd started to cheer for the announcement and I realised that it wasn't just me and Jaime standing in a field together with a crown between us. I took the crown from him, rich with white roses in a bed of green, and I thanked him warmly and publicly for the gesture. _It's not suspicious. It doesn't have to look suspicious. Many knights crown their Queens._

After the initial cheers Cersei slowly but not so subtly stormed off in whichever direction it best suited her to grow angry, and I went to Robert's tent as a public show of my loyalty and care for my King.

He was seething, of course, but not at my crown. It was all I could do to convince him not to have Ser Jaime's head for it.

"You're the one that wanted to compete. You kept saying that you didn't want anyone to hold back."

"Does that make me unworthy?"

"Never." I kissed his temple and begged him to bathe before the celebrations that night.

The feast was grand when the moon kissed the shore, and not even Robert's soreness could dull it. Stannis asked me to dance, and while we were on the floor I spied from the corner of my today's victor dance to the same music with his sister. Their dance was both less and more stuff than mine was with Stannis, filled to the brim with hostility and things that certainly not I could be able to decrypt. When the music stopped the lioness stepped away from her brother briskly and yet his own self only met her angry departure with his signature smirk.

He wore no armour tonight. He was still on duty -everyone knew that that duty did not end because of a mere tourney victory, but now his armour was shed for a relaxing doublet pinned at his left breast with the crest of a roaring lion. He looked so young and yet still so sobering, even as he danced with all the ladies who could dare congratulate him and sat by his father's side in silence -there was an unsure mask to him that the night was slowly unfolding in my own vision.

 _Perhaps it's not the King's favour that I seek._ He said to me plainly the night before, and yet I could not hear it as well as I did now. We shared a heavy look from across the room, harmless to everyone but us, and I recalled how I tried to hide my shaking fingers as I accepted the wreath from him. It was such a little thing, worthless to someone like him, but it was the most anyone had ever done for me. Not because I was their daughter, or sister, or the wife they were bound to and mother to their child, or the Queen they were sworn to obey -as much as his cutting words might sting in that direction I knew it was untrue. No one had ever done so much for me just because they wanted to.

"Shall I come to you tonight?" Robert asked, redirecting my attentions back to him while he leaned in over his chair.

 _Shall I come to you tonight?_ For surely he would go to _someone_ even if it was not me. He had to. My eyes did not waver and remained staring out at _something_ that had by now surely turned to stars, to lit fires, to dust.

 _I will not turn to dust so soon._

"No, not tonight. I'm afraid i'm still weary from the tourney." He nodded his head in understanding and returned to his seat -dejected for a second time that day.

"Of course."

Once again we were in a castle that was not ours and once again by the time that I chose to retire Ser Jaime was the one to accompany back to my chambers -though _company_ could hardly label what it was. Even after the weight of what he had done today there were no words to be said between us, at least not by him.

My door was in range, and suddenly the thought of sleeping another night without speaking truly to him was enough to stop me in my tracks. He stopped too, and when he turned to me questioningly I was still fidgeting with my fingers -the way I usually did when I was nervous, and looked down as I braced myself to ask what I wasn't sure I wanted the answer to.

"What did you mean to accomplish by that, Ser Jaime?" When I looked up at him he was standing far closer than I thought his feet would bring me, and the mixture of darkness and wine I had had contorted his face, especially now that it stood so close, into something I could barely recognise.

"I crowned you Queen, my Queen. I didn't know it needed explaining." He was smirking thinking he had gotten the better of me now that I had surrendered into asking for an explanation to his unexpected action. He always got the better of me. I could be as cold, proud and unforgiving as I liked to the court, to _Tywin Lannister_ , but with him I was all the rage a storm could harness.

He may have been the victor to the tourney, but tonight I will not let him win a reaction out of me, not when he was said and explained so little when I was sure he owed me far more.

"Of course, how could I have expected an honest answer out of you." I scoffed out. I made to resume my step, the last step it took to reach my chamber door, before I felt a strong hand wrap around the muscle above my elbow.

"Let it never be said that I was false, not to you." I could feel his nose brush against my hair, I could feel his breath against the side of my face, I could feel everything I felt in the mountains rush back like the foolish girl I knew myself to be.

There he was, open and his soul and fire visible to only I, and it left me speechless. I could not even look at him. He was the sun.

His grip loosened when I could not bring my voice to answer, and the sudden heat his presence that came with no invitation afforded me with dissipated with the step he took away from me.

"Good night, your grace." His back was almost facing me when I found the only thing I could think of to say with every sharp shot of the flames dancing through me at his sudden closeness. The sudden, forgotten, dear, closeness.

"I have not yet excused you, Ser Jaime." He only turned the side of his face, but those green eyes haunted me enough for me to finally face.

With my eyes still transfixed on his I entered my room. I took a step in to the consuming darkness, and left the door open for another to join me. _Join me in the darkness. Help me find my way._

It was so dark, and so silent, I couldn't even tell whether or not he had entered or left me to stand there until I hear the door click behind me without look. _He could still be on the outside closing the door on me in shame of what this suggests._ Then I heard the latch come down on the door, and suddenly I could him there.

There were no candles burning, and the dark clouds of night covered the moon so that there was little light leaking from the windows. All that was there was _feeling,_ touch, I had no senses anymore but that. _It was never like this with Roland or Robert._ I felt his step tread closer -it was the only sound in the room, and my breath hitched in the middle of my throat by the time his breath landed on the back of my neck.

I turned to him, eyes still so green in the dark. I looked into him, falling and falling until my hands were unknowingly against his doublet. _This was not my mirror, this was no reflection, he is not my cousin._ This is a deep, deep ocean I am set to dive in and the only familiar thing about it is my distorted image in his eyes.

My lips found his somehow, and they grazed against one another's whilst still open and my hot breath finally left me -I was breathing into him. I could feel all the flesh on my body go pink at the lightest of touches, and I kept my own eyes open as I watched his flutter open and shut. I felt his hand on my cheek pulling me away just enough to look at me, and now it was I that felt my eyes close as my mouth opened once more.

"I have resisted. And I have never had anything i've wanted enough to resist before." I continued my insisting invasion on his lips spilling out things that I felt were too sacred to even think to my own self.

"This is right, this is what I want. Don't you want it too? Don't you want your Queen?" I don't know how all of this was coming from me, but the words spilled in my hooded-eyed daze and I didn't have enough care to want to take any of it back. I want him to want me. He was the one I wanted to want me.

"My Queen."

It was all he said before he crushed me to him completely, devouring me gladly.

He leaned down into me, deeper and deeper, trying to find some part of him that was lost in my mouth. My hands moved of their own accord and I could feel his fingers wrap around the lacings of my gown. It unravelled, my gown and myself, before him and I stood against him with no shame - _no more shame_ , as I undid his doublet whilst still promising myself to his lips.

We were on my bed now, just like we usually were in my dreams, and he hovered on top of me, the both of us in our underclothes, and I could feel his desire stemming from where I wrapped my legs around him. He moved his hands down my shift, gripping my thighs, then my arse, then my waist, and he left a trail of kisses down from my neck to where his lips met his hand, eventually removing my shift in the process.

I was naked underneath him now, writhing for just one moment of full admittance, just one moment of confession.

Overcome with want, need, I fought to bring him upwards once more. _Look at me, Jaime. It has been so long since you have looked at me._ I kissed him, disarming him enough to reach down to the centre of his desires and unsheathe him -but he was just as quick, and he reached down to my own centre and plunged a finger inside me with no warning.

I moaned into his mouth, full with the satisfaction of something I couldn't find before no matter how hard I looked. I stroked his length, feeling it harden impossibly in my hand as he continued to torture my with a sole finger. Unrelenting to the dazing torment we were subjecting one another to, Jaime flipped us over so that I was straddling him, and I needed only one nod from him to know that he wanted to be mine completely.

I pushed onto him slowly, taking in his length on my own terms, and a shudder rippled through me at the impossible pleasure of being in control of something that disheveled me so. I rode him steadily, and after a few thrusts he brought his arm across my thigh and up my waist to better guide me. I pushed on harder, containing him deeper, and the friction between us bore to the flame something that I could see even with my eyes closed. My pace quickened as I lost my newly gained control, and the brightest of whites approached my line of closed vision while I felt Jaime lift himself up to my level and bite deeply into my shoulder blades. Everything came all at once and lasted what felt like an hour as I met my end -the final _peak,_ and still the pleasure would not stop -it only threatened to come again. His hands kneaded around my breasts and his breaths grew more laboured the closer I ground into his lap. The pressure -the all too tremendous pressure of being pressed against someone so fully, the same way I felt when we kissed in the Eyrie, strangled the air around us as our lips stopped moving against each other and Jaime shuddered out his end and pulled out of me right before his warmth could feel meet with my own.

We lay on the bed together, close and dirty and warm, and we said nothing for the longest time even as the damning evidence of our betrayal stained the sheets and the edge of my hip, but still we pressed impossibly close to one another with no cold to push us further.

"The chosen Queen." He sighed out as he stroked my chestnut hair. There was still no candle to light the room, only the red warmth we made off each other as we lay in the afterglow of what we had done together.

 _The chosen Queen._ I smiled. We both knew I was anything but that.

"Robert made me Queen." My fingers stroked once over through those golden locks. _Oh how I have longed to do so._

"I wasn't talking about the Seven Kingdoms." _Is it something else, entirely? What do I rule in your eyes, Jaime?_

"I am honoured, Ser." His hands glided along the contours of my back and below as I watched him watch me.

"May I kiss you, your grace?" He didn't ask me the first time he charged at me in my room.

This isn't a mistake. This could never be a mistake.

"Helaena. My name is Helaena."

* * *

 **I'll just leave this right here.**

 **Review, review, review if you want a swift update!**


	14. A Royal Affair

**A/N: Bit of a change of format this chapter! Wow, this was really hard to start especially after the big leap last chapter, but everyone was so nice and you reviewed so diligently that I just had to! **

**Guest: I'm disappointed to read that you find Helaena growing to be one dimensional -that certainly wasn't my intention as I strive for every character to be layered. I read back on previous chapters to try and see what I could do to fix this problem, and hopefully it'll please you (though there's not much room for it in this chapter). Also, you have to keep in mind that in terms of being Queen Helaena is hardly the ambitious type. She never wanted to be anyone's queen, and unlike Cersei she was never raised by a man who insisted she'd be married to a prince or even one of the higher lords, so much of the political manoeuvring seen in Cersei as queen is not present in Helaena just because that is her nature. If you have any specific suggestions regarding the matter you can always message me or review in greater detail and i'll be sure to take it into account!**

 **To Guest (who reviewed on the prologue): The great thing about writing from exclusively one POV (not only that it's waaay easier) is that it leaves room for interpretations on canon characters. They way I wrote though was (for those of us that know the twins are _very_ fond of each other) that they must have had a last confrontation about the matter. Cersei can feel Jaime being pulled away -and maybe that's part of her motivation for wanting to be at court more. The previous chapter, if we're talking about Jaime, is about him making his own decision between these two women. In the Vale, Helaena chose him, and he had already grown attached enough to reciprocate but he didn't have Cersei around to test whatever he felt. But this time, even with Cersei's favour hanging from his lance, he crowned Helaena (A parallel to Prince Rhaegar's choice of crowing Lyanna...and we all know how THAT turned out).**

* * *

I always knew that the worst things for us were the most gripping and inescapable of vices. I knew it when my father did not refuse the glory of serving his liege, I knew it with Robert and his drinking, and I knew it would be true for myself if I ever lived to exist beyond the nothingness that my complacent position allowed. I waited, patiently, for my doom. I was in such eager anticipation, such fear, that I didn't even notice when I met it -when I met _him_. Like a reflex to the law of the universe he grew onto and into me, his sadness that he buried under the layers of his pride shone bright with each passing day. How broken did I have to be to desire something so sad? I was awash with no regret, only surprise that I had known what I wanted and taken it. I didn't have to ask Robert's permission or look to Jon Arryn for his approval of me when I clasped my hands around Jaime's collar. I was Queen, but I would no longer allow myself to be imprisoned by the expectations of others. The only thing I hold myself prisoner to is the wild palpitation of my heart when he is near me, and the gentle joy of touching him on the pillow beside me.

* * *

"What do you mean?" Robert sat stumped in his seat and I comfortingly joined him swiftly in the seat beside him.

"I just...it feels a little strange to have someone sleep next to me -especially so often." I had avoided him narrowly but successfully during our visit to Storm's End, but now that we were back I had to take steps to ensure some sort of boundary between us -as big a boundary as could be allowed between two married people. It was necessary even if I didn't want to admit that the lack of boundary between us was more and more endearing. It wouldn't be fair to admit it, anyway. I know my pleasure, I know my sin, and I choose it. Faced with that or the affection my cousin sometimes gave me, I would choose my sins time and time again.

"Well we'll just have to get used to it." _We._ His smile was wolfish and full of hidden meaning, but I had to keep my feet firmly planted in _something._ I couldn't afford to be weak with two men.

"I don't think I will if I haven't gotten used to it by now." I insisted.

Robert breathed out with that familiar exasperation and pushed himself back in his chair.

"So i'm not to come to you at all then? Are you back to barring me from your rooms?" He groaned whilst he waved his hands around.

"No, no of course not. It's just the sleeping that's all." _I want to spend that time, the only time I ever could have, with someone else._

"You're my _wife_." _I haven't forgotten. I could never forget._

This wasn't working. Even with Robert's growing respect and affection, as welcome a change as it was, it wasn't enough to hold the flimsy excuse to any real merit. I suddenly felt dirty at how dubious and _unclean_ this attempt was growing to be and the spin on the situation i'd have to throw out. It was a card I could always count on using.

"I know what you... enjoy, Robert." _Spend your nights drinking, laughing, you don't have to be bound to my room so tightly._

"I enjoy _you_. Do I have to love you to enjoy you?" We had admitted our un-love for each other a moon ago naked in each other's arms, but we had never spoken of it since. I couldn't say it to him, even after my infidelity, I couldn't look at Robert and slap him in the face with the widely known revelation that we weren't a King and Queen in love -but apparently he did not feel the same. I didn't know whether that was supposed to make me feel better about any of this. My lack of an answer must have let him know that it didn't.

"I can still come to you...can't I?" His insecurity blossomed once more, and all those things that I had ever said or thought about him felt at their truest in that moment. Robert wanted to be wanted despite everything else -his greatest fear was to be forgotten. Maybe that was why he insisted on being so loud all the time.

"Yes, yes you're my _husband_." It was a reminder for the both of us. "I just ask that you tell me beforehand."

"I have to _ask_ my own wife to accept me in her bed?" _Jon Arryn expected me to do so with you -it doesn't sound so flattering when it's directed at you, does it?_

It was probably the only time I felt so ashamed at what I had become and what I was doing, but I looked Robert straight in the eyes and lied to him as fully as anyone ever could.

"I'm...not _like_ you, Robert. I can't just _take_. I need time to prepare. This doesn't mean that you can only come to me only when I feel like it...just give a girl a fair warning first. Is that too much to ask?" I gently touched his chin and pressed a smile to my lips, almost like he was a child that I was gently scolding.

After a moment of contemplation he cast his eyes down and then, with some sort of deciding nod, he smoothed his palm across my knee - _suggestively_.

"Do these terms have to start right this moment, lady wife?"

He was handsome, truly. Perhaps, and I say this probably because I was born to the Stormlands, even more handsome than Jaime. I was not blind, nor was I devoid of feeling or militant to the faith of my faithlessness. And above all, I was not stupid.

"They don't have to." I pressed his lips against mine and tried to remember that his eyes were blue and not green.

* * *

I sat on my raised dais still sore with the evidence of the activities conducted the night before.

Even with the dull ache I would blush in remembrance of the things that were done to me to get me to such a state -regardless of my strong and inexplicable attraction to him Jaime Lannister proved to be a most proficient lover. A demanding one at that, too.

Despite being the queen I could hardly say that anyone ever saw me, not truly at least -I was watched loosely and guarded but I was too invisible to them for them to see the secret smiles that would grace both I and Jaime's faces whenever our eyes lingered on one another.

No longer did he walk behind me. No longer did he regretfully flinch away when our elbows accidentally bumped. No longer were his eyes only playful to me whenever they were not passive. Now, he walked by my side and kept a hand on the small of my back when we were alone. Now, a blush would creep up my chest as the knight undressed me with his eyes before the entire court.

One might mistake our game of cat and mouse for tactful espionage by the way we conducted our signal key. If I swirled the neck of my goblet between my fingers it meant I wanted him. If he wore his Lannister pin on his left breast instead of his right that meant that he was standing guard for Robert tonight. He'd stand post by Robert's door until all my husband's "business" had been conducted and switch posts with whomever was guarding my door -often relieving a Golden Cloak, and with the knowledge that our odds of getting caught were as low as they could possibly be in our situation, we would make love deep into the night.

It had only been a few moons at this point -despite how far gone I might seem if anyone were to know, but I was quickly coming to know that Jaime Lannister was a jealous lion, after all. Besides the upending subject between us that we mostly left ignored -the knowledge that I still technically and somewhat willingly belonged to Robert, there were other displays that made those familiar green eyes flare when it caught sight of them. Sometimes, during dinner, Robert would lean in and kiss me in a place he enjoyed kissing me -the place around where my neck met my shoulder, and upon witnessing that that night Jaime came to my room and bit down harshly on that very spot causing it to mar in a stain of his affection. For a week I had to wear something that covered it -conveniently stopping Robert from kissing me there. I wasn't ignorant of his jealousy, nor did I miss the way he had to look away whenever he was guarding Robert and I and our children. We would be laughing, Cleora only now learning how to walk and Steffon gurgling happily, and even as I witnessed some sort of pain cross Jaime's features every time I looked his way I had too much love in my heart for my family -Robert included, to blame him or shame myself entirely for it. It was gluttonous of me; sinful and unjust, but it was mine to bear. It was _my_ secret, _my_ lover, the only thing I had other than my children that was _mine_ , truly.

Jaime wore his doublet more and more often during dinner time -it was easier to get out of than his full armour. When I wanted him at night I wanted him so completely, even the clash of his armour against my cheek was delicious to me -but we did not have all night to waste. Our skin was the primal concern -our flames and how to put them out by alighting a brighter flame within them were our militant causes.

And tonight it did not vary. Like the stars that remained constant and guided wicked pirates on their paths to pillaging, the passion I had for Jaime Lannister was my constant.

He kisses my neck, and my eyes close and do not open until I am sated with our common pleasure.

* * *

We peeled each other off when Jaime climaxed. It was a usual night. We used our signals. We met around the same time we usually did. We made love until I couldn't even say my own name anymore -only his. But this time he did not remove himself from me when he met his pleasure's end. This time I had no need for the washcloth that I kept by my bedside table whenever I expected him. This time I felt his length pulse inside me as he emptied himself -his seed, into my warmth.

It came with no words, no explanations. We merely lay there, still close to one another but only our breaths could be heard as my mind swirled at what had just happened -and how good it felt.

As I lay still on my back I felt Jaime's weight shift on my bed and turned my head to find him propped up on one elbow and was now lying on his side.

"Is something troubling you?" He asked, but it didn't feel like a question -his smug grin was enough to indicate as much.

Despite the situation and the lack of discussion we've ever had regarding it I smiled back playfully at him and caressed his upper arms with my nails.

"Neither I nor my husband have green eyes or blonde hair, i'd appreciate it if you didn't spill your seed inside me." It only took a moment for the lion to mount me and kiss my collarbone, he moved his hand to cup my cheek whilst his other moved to tickle the back of my neck -a place he knew very could make me laugh direly.

I giggled as I tried to push him away but he held me in place long enough for me to hear his response.

"I would have my head mounted on a spike if it means doing that again, being inside you." I reached for a falling strand of his golden hair and brushed it back behind his ear.

"It's a lovely sentiment, but your head is far too pretty to rot on a spike I think." I moved my hands up to his full arms once more, encasing him in a thin cage of my admiration as my eyes danced upon his perfectly toned chest. "I prefer you like this." He is so beautiful, so young. I feel beautiful, and young. Only when I am with him.

"Like this?" He proceeded to kiss me down the valley of my breasts with his once playful disposition now turned unashamedly seductive.

My eyes fluttered shut as I felt his mouth swirl against the pebbles of my nipples and a soft sigh escaped me at the feel of his wild mouth against my breasts and his wild hair through my fingers. My legs parted like a blossomed flower in response to the growing suggestion of his kisses and lost myself to my words once more.

"Alive." I moaned into the air.

I felt his length tease my entrance, coating it with my arousal.

"My Queen." He pushed into me, filling me completely, and it was the only thing I could think of to my blind self as we made love the second time that night.

 _I am Queen. I am Queen. I am your Queen._

* * *

A mere year after Steffon's Tourney at Storm's End did Stannis and my good-sister welcome another child to the Baratheon name. A girl, Deemah.

Only a year it was that passed -but still so much had changed. Cleora, my sweet spirited girl could speak names and was starting to form sentences. Steffon was almost standing now, and his hair that was black as ink when he was born had begun to slightly fade to a deep brown. Shireen, just a little older than Steffon, was Cleora's favourite doll to play with whenever she was there -and since the beginning of the new year Stannis brought her to the Capital with him to grow with her cousins. How her mother was accepting of that, especially since she rarely visited, was beyond me entirely. And Renly, too, had grown so much -he could now charge with his horse my himself though he still didn't seem to have too much taste for swordplay still.

And now there was a new little Baratheon to join the brood.

They came to court whilst she was still so little, and often I would take the children -all of them, to the gardens or sit with them in the nursery. Cersei rarely ever joined us, not when we were playing at least. That was not to say that she didn't love her girls, nor was there any part of her that I could find that resented the fact that they were girls and not boys. No, the lioness loved her cubs, and when she deigned them worthy of her company anyone else that dared come close was met with fierce protectiveness. Sometimes I wondered whether that same protectiveness was applied not only to her cubs but to her twin. What would Cersei Lannister do if she knew I had taken her brother as my lover?

I thought about it now even as I sat with him watching the children -his sister's presence was needed _elsewhere_ apparently.

It felt good being here. It was almost like another place -surrounded by children and their giggles. And Jaime, of course. Jaime. It was the cruelest delight to wish things were different but also wish some of it stayed the same. Surely without suffering through an undesired marriage and being queen I would not be able to look upon such perfect little children. Sometimes i'd imagine somehow that Robert and I weren't married but still made Cleora and Steffon, and that everyone I included in my life was part of this family that we were privy to. _Am I being foolish? Am I being naïve?_ I wished there were no titles, only actions and unspoken vows.

I could feel Jaime's eyes on me, and I turned to find them regarding me curiously instead of hungrily.

"What is it?" I questioned him, and he squinted further in some sort of investigation.

"Your eyes."

"What about them?"

"They have _some_ green in them." I rolled my eyes.

"Not enough to convince a Maester or a Kingdom."

He shrugged his shoulders -he was Ser Jaime, son of Tywin, of the Kingsguard once more.

"Suit yourself."

* * *

"Oh what now?" Robert stood in his room obviously fed up at my tendency to march in -perhaps my adultery made me grow bold.

It was getting bad as of late. Well, not bad -just worse. He hasn't come to my bed in over two moons now -and it was mostly due to my bad excuses. Robert wasn't stupid though, and he must have known that I was avoiding him. Somehow I think Robert would rather learn I was brushing him off because I had someone else in my bed instead of thinking that he displeased me. Usually when people assumed that they were displeasing to another one would think that they'd withdraw into themselves -perhaps even obsess over remedying the situation. But not Robert. No, whenever Robert felt insecure his arrogance grew.

And yet despite the relations between us that needed some fixing and were admittedly quite delicate I could not stop myself from asking - _demanding_ , that what consistently brought me disgust whenever I chanced upon it be removed.

"I want the Mountain out of court!"

It was enough for me to know whose blood my crown was lined with. More than enough. But to see the man who killed them with his bare hands upon his Lord's orders brought me to both fear and rage. _Would that be us? Would we pay for the sins of the King, too?_

I couldn't very well have Lord Tywin removed from court -I doubted that even Robert could demand so even if he wished, which I sometimes believed he did whenever he confided in me. But I had decided since the night before when bloody corpses haunted my dreams in the place of my children that I would not have Gregor Clegane walk the same halls as I or my family so long as I remained at court.

"That's all you have for me! Demands, demands, demands!" He threw his hands up at me, frustrated and confused and frankly even through my weak excuses I could never attest that I had been a child like he was being.

 _Always so happy with your vices, always sulking when met with something that didn't involve tits or wine._

"What is it you want, then? Is this some sort of an exchange?" I'm not different than any of his whores, really.

"It'd have to be judging by the way you guard your cunt, woman!" He exclaimed at me, and I was too indignant at the return of that scornful _title_ to grow angry with his statement.

"Do not call me woman!" We were back where we had started. I remember thinking that this was preferable to our silence, but then again I was never in the wrong before then, was I?

"I'll call you whatever I want to call you!" He grabbed my waist and held my neck up so that I had no choice but to watch him. I didn't answer, I wouldn't answer -not when I could see the seething storm curdle in those darkening eyes.

Without another word he spun me around onto the round table behind us and swiftly lifted my skirts from behind me.

I didn't say anything, I couldn't. It felt like falling back on the same rock -I had been here before. It had been a while, but I remember Robert taking me here before. The early days, the silent thrusts, the rough grabbing, the lack of care. All of it resumed in that one moment, and as he sheathed himself inside me I recalled the way the spikes of the gate beneath Maegor's Holdfast looked when he pushed into me from the top of the tower long ago. _Should I die like a Queen?_

 _Here we are again._

* * *

"Do you want some wine?" I asked as I heard the door click behind me. He didn't rush to me like he usually did -his steps were slow and deliberate, and I didn't feel the kiss that was usually pressed to the back of my neck when our clandestine tryst would begin.

I turned to find him still standing by the door, this time clad in his armour, with his hands clasped and is eyes on anything but me.

"I'd better not, your grace." I sighed out, he had been like this for days now. Ever since a particular visit from Robert that came in the afternoon Jaime shut off and was acting distant, not even venturing to touch me at all.

"When are you going to stop this?" I started stepping to him hoping my closeness would thaw him.

"Stop what, your grace?" His feigned indifferent blew my consideration out of the water.

"Stop it." My finger danced on a loose tunic string peeking from his armour and I leaned in to kiss him.

It was a graze of the lips; a tangle of breaths, and for a moment I could feel his eyes flutter shut in our heat before he pushed my hands -and me, away.

"I can still smell him on you." He looked disgusted as he said it and through all the wrong we had done I had never felt so disgusting -so dirty, before. I stumbled back in my place eyeing him incredulously from where I stood. He couldn't even look at me.

I felt the rage -my inherent birthright, crawl painfully through my veins like it was constricting it tightly, like it would threaten my extinction if I did not pour it out of me.

"What is it you want from me? You know I can't refuse him!" Jealousy was one thing -the reality was something else completely.

"You can't or don't want to?"

I scoffed harshly at the implication -he was being a child.

"Oh please!"

"Do you know what it's like to stand by him while he takes his whores and then goes to your awaiting arms? I'm almost embarrassed for you." I didn't know how we could stand there and say that to me, not when we made love in this room and I let him inside me in all the ways that counted.

"How can you say that to me?" I hissed out, and I threatened myself inwardly that i'd jump out of the window myself if the tears dared to spill.

"Because you're a fool! You're a fool if you think he loves you!" _I don't think that. I know very well what Robert feels for me._ His raised voice had no place here. It was not his place to tell me what my husband did or did not feel.

"Why are you angry at me?" I shouted back in equal measure -what had I done? What could I do? How was this happening? I was to have a quarrel with my lover i'd at least like to have done something purposeful to fight about!

"Because I love you!"

Even my breaths stilled while my heart beat wildly in my chest. _He loves me. Jaime loves me. What do I feel, then?_

His shoulders slumped in response to my silence, and the short malice that burned through those orbs when he stood accusing me melted into something else -surrender. His feet brought him to me and I don't think either of us were aware what was happening or why it was happening. It was like a sun stroke, and we were limping around the Earth trying to find a cool drink of water.

His hand came to my cheek and his lips back to where they belonged; with mine.

"Don't you see?"

 _I see now. Only you._

* * *

The time passed and still the gardens remained for me and the children.

Renly was almost a man now, traveling on official business with Robert whenever he himself went and he grew big and strong enough in a way that was sure to match his older brother someday I daresay. Cleora was four now and Steffon nearly three and Shireen somewhere in the middle with Deemah still being the youngest of them all at two. They had all grown before my eyes in all the smallest ways that came out to be cumulatively unbelievable. To watch and witness them learn the small treasures and bear necessities of our worldly designs fascinated me to no end whenever it came time for one to pass another milestone. It didn't get less precious or less incredible -and I had no idea who to praise or pray to for the marvel that was a growing child.

Even Renly's progression was something I invested myself in -though truth be told it was something I worried myself over more often than nought. A lovely and beautiful spirit he was, but also quite an impressionable boy he still is. I was quite certain that the story I told him of the sirens waiting to consume his soul in the sea some years ago still scared him enough to put him off girls even at such a hormonal age -who knows what effect others' instruments of influence could have on him.

Each moon that passed my children got heavier in my arms and fawned over their father more and more. Of course, now that they had both reached a "safe" age to ensure they'd live at least to come of age, talk started of their potential betrothals.

Whenever I sat in on any council meetings when the matter came up I refused vehemently -insisting publicly that it was still too soon and insisting silently that my children would _choose._ Whether or not it brought them happiness, they would _choose_ and handle the consequences of their choices. But it was just another naïve tendency of mine that had grown -no decision could truly be just theirs, and I would be a hypocrite to ask them to choose while also limiting their selections to highborns and nobles. What right did I have to decide what was or was not right?

For even with my family cemented and these few fresh years spent in the splendour of my children and their father I still kept my lover the closest to my heart and bed.

It was a balance that was constantly fought with and frail -but it was a part of myself I sacrificed gladly if it meant I could have everything for a short while. For a short while, I could even be selfish.

Our closeness did not go unnoticed by the court -of course, and I eventually had to start allowing Jaime to dine with me and name him as my sworn shield -if I conducted my relationship for all to see, even if it was only the friendly aspect of it, then there would be less cause for concern and no room for whispers. It was not even an entire falsehood -I trusted Jaime to keep me safe, naming him as my sworn shield was far less than a lie. Even Cleora and Steffon recognised the part Jaime played in my life -Cleora especially, who went to him whenever she wanted to take a swim or make him tell her of Casterly Rock, grew more and more attached to Jaime every time he indulged her.

Her free spirit was contagious -oh how she loved to dance! Even when she could barely walk she would try and mostly fail. During the times she was allowed in at the feasts she'd keep her eyes trained on those that were dancing the entire time, she'd even sometimes force Steff into a clumsy dance -which sometimes led to a fit of tears from my son or a tantrum from Robert's daughter.

"Will I dance like that one day, Mama?" She asked me once, and I hoped that that is all she would ever want for.

"Of course, with many handsome partners."

"Don't let them sway you!" Robert would cut in and throw Cleora in his arms and i'd almost lose sight of my daughter in a storm of her coloured silks -the only evidence of her remaining prevalent were her unrelenting giggles of joy.

And although she had such a spirited partner in her father there was only one partner that took her seriously enough to teach her a few things -some things even _I_ did not know, and that was Jaime. With the most precious concentration hanging in his brow he would delicately sway with her with all the grace I never thought he'd have -i'd never really seen him dance save for a handful of times. And though he danced with my daughter now, I realised that i'd never danced with him myself. Was I being greedy to wish it so?

The long summer waged on and it waited not for us or anyone else, and the more the days stretched out with my lying on the grass with the children the more they learned.

"Uncle Jaime! Uncle Jaime!" Shireen and Deemah would call out to bid him to come play, and after long enough no one bothered correcting Cleora and Steffon when they began addressing him that way either.

* * *

His beard was growing, I could feel it against the skin of my neck as he dug me deeper into his bed.

"Helaena." It was my name that he whispered now, and the sound of his voice pleased me enough for me to return the favour.

"Robert." He kissed me fully on the lips and circled his tongue around mine, sending pleasant chills that cooled soothingly through my blood.

He pushed into me once more, this time far slower, and I looked on as his own eyes lost themselves to the pleasure we let ourselves indulge in on this night.

He continued on like that, slow and deep, and the more I looked at him change in front of me the more I appreciated the subtle sweat in his brow and the beautiful tinge to his lips.

It was always slower now when I accepted him into my bed -which was not even that often in itself. Whenever Jaime and I came together it was always strangled with passion and searching for its end -it was always fast and on the verge of being discovered, but I found a great comfort with Robert that I couldn't deny -not even when I faced Jaime. Needless to say, _he_ had been angry with me. But I was too tired for Jaime's pride, I was so tired of acting strong whenever I had to fight him on things that neither one of us could change.

Sometimes it felt good to take Robert back - _Robert_ who always apologised now, _Robert_ who always pinched my cheek and asked me to relent, instead of fighting with Jaime and his stubbornness. Whenever I was angry with Jaime or he was angry with me we'd end up in a battle of wits and an eventual consolatory session of love with both of us probably thinking that we were the victors of the exchange.

I did not feel with Robert the overwhelming sense of urgency or the shuddering passion of climaxing that I felt with Jaime. Robert's hands -or his tongue for that matter, never knew me the way Jaime's did. But when faced with a man who would rather see you cry alone in your rooms rather than apologise it was not unfair to say that i'd settle for the easy pleasure of being in Robert's arms -as rare as it was.

He came to his end forcefully, and I wondered whether when he emptied himself he was hoping for his seed to impregnate me just as unexpectedly as it had before. He hadn't mentioned anything about children -not since Steffon, but that didn't mean that Jon Arryn hadn't. And whatever Jon Arryn said to me I was almost sure he also said to Robert.

I lay in my husband's arms that night racked with the guilt of all the parties I was unjust to with my actions to both of them -this was unfair to Robert. It was unfair to Jaime. It was unfair to the people who thought me such a true Queen. It was unfair to my family and their name. And it was unfair to my children, who I wasn't sure would be happier if I were not so happy having everything.

 _This isn't permanent. Nothing lasts forever. You have time to be true -you have time to be good._

* * *

The door clicked behind me -but that night I had not expected it to. There was no swirl of my goblet, and frankly I was too exhausted from my long day at the orphanage to spare a glance at Jaime's pin. Even when I felt his hands crawl up to my shoulders, my eyes fluttered shut bearing too much exhaustion to try and forgive Jaime for our most recent disagreement that week.

"Not tonight, Jaime." I shrugged away from unconvincingly as I was too tired to try to do so more forcefully.

But still the stifling heat of his kisses on my neck did not stray from their path, and I slowly felt his grip tighten around my wrists as he continued with no regard for my spoken words.

"What is that to me? I must have you." I felt his hot breath latch to my neck and I suddenly could not breath with him so close. He always did this. We'd fight, he'd be passive and uncaring for a week, and then he'd come back to me like nothing was ever said between us -like we were new and this wasn't what happened every other moon.

I struggled out of his grasp, somehow coming free and staggering away from him. The exhaustion left me the moment I faced him, and all I was was a pile of the humiliation I had had to suffer at the hands of two men -and I suspected far more.

"I'm the _Queen_ , and yet you get to treat me like a whore." I spat it at him with no thought -the way he usually spewed his poison at me, with little care, and he did nothing but grin back at me like I was jesting.

"So does the King, but I suppose he's allowed to isn't he?" The next moment was marred by the sudden slap on his cheek.

The golden flesh of his cheek rang a bright red at the removal of my hand and both the suddenness of my action and sheer strength with which I brought it shocked me enough to push me back a few steps.

His eyes were not mirthful or teasing or even cruelly taunting as they may have been a moment before. Now, they were dark -nearly black, and he slowly enclosed me in a space between him and the wall like I was the lion's prey - _perhaps tonight, I will be._

Suddenly his hands were up my skirts, and his face pressed agains mine. It was a sheer animalistic need, so primal and fierce, and there was not a word I could throw in edgeways that could contest the harsh ripping of my gown as he swallowed my mouth whole. His hand lay threateningly close to my neck, and when he kissed me I found I did not want to fight him in refusing him any longer -I wanted to fight him in _this_. In this arena we had no rules, in this arena he had no words that could make me cry.

I roughly peeled his doublet off him and with the sheer force of our touches we had not even gotten to the bed by the time we were both naked -so we settled for the floor.

We took each other harshly and bided to no one's complaints as we moved together in coarse unison. His hand lay fully on my neck now, slightly squeezing down, and he thrust in to me so hard and fast that I fell to my end in pieces underneath him as he continued on with his unrelenting rhythm.

"Say it." He hissed up at me as he jerked in and out. I knew he was close. And I knew what he wanted from me. I knew what he wanted to hear.

"I don't care. I don't care about anyone. Only you."

He came with a sudden cry and fell onto my chest heaving heavy, the both of us completely still.

* * *

"Do you think we'll ever stop?" Jaime asked me hoarsely, and I looked to him in the rising bloom of dawn and considered his question without wondering why he was asking it.

We lay fairly apart from one another on my bed with our hands clasped loosely in the centre between us -for some reason tonight I could not bear the harsh cold I felt when Jaime peeled himself off of me and left, and so with the knowledge that he is going -that will always go, I lay apart from with only my hand to offer.

"I don't know...I love you." I always thought we'd have an end -I thought I knew what I was talking about. But his love both freed and imprisoned me, there was no telling how i'd escape or whether i'd be able to live through an escape. I needed him all the time, even if it were just to sit by me and make me laugh, I needed him.

"That doesn't stop making you my Queen. Or wife to the King. Mother to the prince and princess." Jaime never spoke of such sense or logic -he had an unusual tendency for making his own rules. This wasn't him, he was trying to give me a way out.

He knows something's coming -should he wish for me to die with a heavy conscience? Talk of the Ironborn has not ceased in moons, and I feared that the only thing that could set it to silence was another war for Robert to fight in. Was this all because he knew I was bound to bid him farewell?

"You choose to hold that against me now?" Was this some sort of test? _I don't want to be without you, I should never be without you._

His form suddenly grew close to mine and his hands rushed over my arms.

"No...no...I don't choose -I can't choose. You've given me no choice, I must have you even if it's only a small piece." And yet I wanted all of him -unabashedly and without giving him a choice for anything else, I wanted every part of him that was for the taking.

I brushed his cheek lightly with the back of my finger, _the years have not dulled his beauty_.

"We are no one's servants, not here. I am not your Queen. You're just a knight, and I am your lady love." He suddenly look wistful and sad as I said it -like he knew it could never be.

"I knew a brother of the Kingsguard who loved the wife of the man he lived to serve." Under usual circumstances i'd ask him all about who they were and why a knight loved his lady so. I'd ask him whether he ever crowned her in any tourneys, or whether she knew of his affections for her. But for now I asked only of what mattered to me-of what Jaime now wished me to know.

"How did it end?" For even I knew that all things must end. I had no idea what the dawn would bring -only that it was coming.

"They never got to decide how it ended for them."

* * *

 **Review, review, review! Tell me what you think and how it's gonna end (we're pretty close to the ending)!**


	15. Uncharted

**A/N:** **Sorry for the late update! It was great reading your theories even though I already have the ending planned -some of you were kinda close! For all the speculation -yes, the Kingsguard mentioned in the last chapter is Arthur Dayne and the woman I wrote him to love is Elia Martell. Sue me, ok? I am EliaxArthur to the death (no pun intended), it's so canon in my head that i'm shocked when I remember it has yet to be confirmed.**

* * *

Twice married, twice a mother, but only one great love.

I knew it now better than ever -he was the only one for me, the only one I wanted. King's Landing had no colour and filled with the rust that the might of the Ironborn wished to thrust upon us without him here.

Balon Greyjoy has seen it fit to seek his independence now that the Targaryens have been happily deposed. I personally could not care in the slightest who the Ironborn do or do not bend the knee to -they were the farthest thing from Westerosi that our lands and laws permitted, but when the Ironborn leader threatens my husband's existence and by accessory the accession of my children it is unwise of him to make an enemy out of me.

Tywin Lannister saw his fleet crushed by them, and they were nearing the Reach now -close enough to incite the King's personal attendance to battle them. Stannis had headed off as well -as Commander of Ships it would be imprudent of him not to head an attack, and I had every faith that efficient old Stannis would serve his brother well and make the Stormlands proud.

 _"He'll never rebel again if he is left only a skull."_ I whispered into Robert's ear when I saw him off for battle. He only laughed and nuzzled me closer to say,

 _"A true Baratheon i've made you."_

I smiled the same way I did to Robert when I received word that Stannis's fleet had crushed the Ironborn by the Shield Islands and stopped. That same smile fell when I realised that decisive battle would have to be had -and a King in open combat was not to be had without his most able Kingsguard. I tried to tell myself it would all be fine -I smelled the last of his scent off my pillowcase every day that he was still with me and we got to live this idyllic existence with no interruptions for as long as I could -but he was always quick to remind me how he yearned for battle. I think it was perhaps the only thing he and Robert had in common. But Jaime thirsted for battle not because he was blood hungry or because it was the truest form of 'alive' for him -but because I knew there was so much he wanted to prove to everyone regardless of how much he acted like he owed them nothing. In that regard I could say that Jaime Lannister was hardly the son of Tywin. And although the road was anything but smooth with him and every time I held my children I found it harder and harder to look them in the eye knowing there was even the smallest possibility that their father might not come back, it was when Jaime left that my true troubles began. I had no heart and no strength to write him or to ever think that everything would change when he returned.

I didn't need to bleed or be sick, I didn't need a grand feast or the probing fingers of a Maester to know. I was withchild. Perhaps a girl whose spirit and naïevety were more fitting to my age she would hope -she would pray to even the Drowned God, that it was Robert's child or could pass as mine with the knowledge that my husband hadn't completely abstained from my bed. But Robert had been gone three whole moons before Jaime had joined him up in the West, and it had been two moons since my lover departed that I felt the early signs -even before then it was a stretch to believe that it could be my husband's. And there were no amount of prayers and Mother's Crowns I could weave to change what I knew I had to do.

And so I went looking for the only person I could go to for a solution. Like some sort of spirit, he always lurked around the gardens and appeared just when he thought he'd be needed.

"Lord Varys, will you join me for a walk?" I said when I spotted the Eunuch approach the marble bench I was sitting on. I stood and made my way to him before he could feign any type of excuse -though I doubted Varys was the kind to turn anyone down.

"I would only be honoured, your grace."

" _Only_ honoured?" I smirked at the slight befuddlement that befell him as we drawled our walk along to a place where I knew the shrubbery was _particularly_ thick.

"Forgive me, the expression can be a little lacking."

"I find we are all often lacking and unlucky in our expressions. Do you not agree?"

"Indeed. The art of speech I daresay is one to be mastered."

"I'd say we're doing just fine for now." I smiled as sincerely as I could, but with his answer of silence I knew there were no more places I could hide before announcing just why I needed him.

"I'm sure you've figured out by now that I sought you out not merely for the pleasure of your company." Varys was a smart man, secretive and a little cunning, but smart nonetheless.

"People rarely seek me out for just that, your grace."

"There is a matter of much... _sensitivity_ , that I was hoping you could help me with." I started hesitantly, waiting to gauge his reaction and the level of his interest.

"I am all sensitivity, my queen." It was not abysmal; I had to be careful with how I proceeded.

"I'm afraid an _unwanted_ fate has befallen one of my ladies in waiting." _Just like I practiced. Stick to the story._ His curled brow told me to keep going.

"You see, she's been seduced by a nobleman here at court. I'm sure you can understand...the heat, the music, the wine, it has an effect on young maids. Anyways, she's confided in me that after a few of such...trysts, she fears now that she's... _carrying_." I told the story and almost believed it. I could see it even now -it was not a hard picture to paint. Perhaps the Hightower girl, she danced a few times with Lathor Mallery. Her green and pastel yellow silks floated around my mind in a mist of perfumed breaths -he'd meet her at an alcove on the way to her rooms and she'd let him in _just this once_.

"Oh dear." He didn't sound too surprised -affairs were hardly scarce here at court. But it made me wonder that perhaps there was a _right_ way to have an affair. Maybe the _right_ way was to be young and naïve and to keep telling yourself ' _just this once'_ so maybe it wouldn't get to this. I was wrong, wrong, wrong. It was a bad habit of mine.

"Yes, but you see the father is already a married man and in no position to help her _situation_ , and I fear not even I can help a girl's reputation once the court hears of an unmarried woman having a bastard. So, do you see the position this young girl is in?" By now I was half convinced myself, forgetting the few damned times Jaime had ever spilled his seed in me, but all I needed to do was to look at Varys to know that he was not as gullible as I. Yet he still hid behind a small smile.

"If I may ask, your grace, what is it you think I can help you with?" _Not me, the girl._

"I think we both know what i'm asking you for, Lord Varys."

He nodded slightly, stopping us in our place in the process.

"Moon tea." It was so scandalous to hear and were it not for the eerie lowness in Varys's voice I would have told him to keep his voice down. I had never even heard it said out loud in my presence nevertheless have a direct conversation about it.

"Yes." It left me so desperate and yet so ashamed -perhaps that is what would give me away. The shame.

"Is...the lady sure?" He narrowed his eyes at me, somehow pinning me, the _queen,_ in a corner of his making and I had to look away to get out of it even though it probably compromised the delicacy of the issue.

"Yes...she doesn't have many options."

"May I ask how far along she is?" I rolled my eyes at him in exasperation, feeling suddenly trapped by all the questions and the mounting pressure of being found out. I turned around before he continued "I must know because the moon tea only works to a certain extent."

"She's...she says she may be around two moons pregnant, maybe three." _I would know._

I turned around to face him and found him eyeing me curiously. I wasn't sure if he knew or not. I wasn't even sure if he knew I was lying or not -by now I knew enough of him to understand that even what he gave away or betrayed from his expressions could be a calculated choice.

"Will you do it?" I sounded like a child, but for all I knew I was one. Gods know i've acted like one. I've been selfish, selfish and unjust and sometimes cruel, and now I am made to pay for it by all but grovelling to this eunuch.

"You're a good friend to have, your grace." He was gone the next moment, and I nearly fell to my knees in relief.

I had appealed -I had done my best to appeal, and now that the extraction was over there was only one part left. The actual deed.

* * *

The more and more I went over it in my head, the more that dying glimmer in his eyes felt like a spark of condemnation. I wasn't showing -not yet at least, and I had made sure never to be sickly or dizzy in front of anyone, but who ever knew with Varys? He always seemed to have the upper hand, and he always used it to slap someone whenever they weren't even looking. It obviously did not end my sensitive nerves that Varys seemed to be taking his time with the Moon tea. _Is he watching me? Is he waiting to inform Jon Arryn?_ He seemed to vanish almost completely from court, and whenever I _did_ happen upon him he made sure I felt less than important to be in his company.

The day did not come without me waiting ungracious and impatiently for it. My paranoia never ceased but my logic had to win over it time and time again. If he knew I was lying, or more importantly if he suspected something, why would I still be here? I thought that as I stood on my balcony regarding the city. It was still untouched by the war -by _this_ war at least, but it looked broken to me already.

"Forgive my interruption, your grace." I hadn't heard him enter or the door close behind him. I suppose he thought me unworthy now -though I suppose I have nothing to fear from his unwanted presence in my chamber.

"Is there something I can help you with, Lord Varys?" Even to me my voice sounded tired, and I only needed to look at him and the way that never betraying face tried to evoke sympathy to know he thought me a liar.

"We need not act. Putting on a show can be tiring." It was the most condemning thing I could think he had said against me, but at the same time it was the greatest relief. No more worrying, no more pretending. One would think i'd have more of a spine for it, but my shoulders sagged in surrender. But my pride, my pride would not let me look at my accuser. Did I want this? Did I want to be found out? Is this how it all ends for me?

I looked down from the balcony we stood in. It wasn't the same view -there were no spikes beneath me, but did it matter? I'd meet the same end as another Queen as long as I jumped. It wouldn't even be a jump, just a little push is all it would take. Just stand on my toes and... _push_.

We stood in silence for only a little while basking in the glory of being plain and unpretending -I in the glory of death at my own hand instead of Robert's, until he spoke in that sickening tone of his.

"I had my suspicions, you merely confirmed them." _Who are you to suspect me? Why would you tell me you know? Why not go straight to Jon Arryn?_

"Would it matter at all if I said I loved him?" I smiled wistfully at the sunset - _here our sun sets._

"I see no one here who wishes to pass judgement."

Before I could look at _him_ incredulously, my eyes gaze gave chase to his hands moving midway between us as they placed a vile of a cutting looking yellowed liquid on the sill.

"What you requested earlier...for one of your ladies. Tell her to pour it in her tea and drink it up - _all_ of it. She should bleed the coming morning." I didn't realise the tears were stinging my eyes until I looked up at him and my vision was blurred.

"You're helpi-"

"The Kingdoms don't need a false Queen -especially one who has no intention of being false." Had he met queens before who thought this was a game?

"And...you won't tell Robert?"

"As long as this vile is emptied and your relationship with Jaime Lannister is ended from henceforth, then I will guarantee you the King or anyone else shall never find out about this." I didn't even ask how he knew it was Jaime, I didn't even ask why he wanted it to be over -didn't I want it to be over? After this? Did I want to subject myself to more humiliation at his hands and heart wrenching revelations just to have it all? Did I want to put myself and my children in harm's way to have him?

Or...maybe...maybe this means that I know who to be careful from now on. Maybe this means we can get better at hiding.

But like I had said before, I am not a naïve little girl. What I want has no place in the decision I was about to make. For once I had to put others before me.

"What do you want in return?"

"I suppose some might look upon this and say that I have done you a favour, my queen. One could only ask that should I need it one day I can count on you to return it." Only Varys could make it sound as damning as he did. Only Varys could make me suddenly feel a prisoner to the hollow tinge of his voice.

I was suddenly angry -angry at myself, at him, at Jaime, at Robert, at the seed that was strong enough to consume my womb, at the setting sun -all of it. My fingers curled menacingly around the sill and I ground my teeth without looking at him -I could not face him and that is what made me the angriest. This was my _fall_ , my true fall. Perhaps a beheading would have been more dignified. To see your position dwindle in front of someone who barely had any respect for yours to begin with was a rare delight indeed -but one that Helaena Estermont was bound to fall into.

"I only ever want what is good for the realm." I tried to believe him. I tried to believe that this was _good_ and something could be saved, but the time for me to be good had surely passed by now. There was no forgiveness the Gods could give me, there was no redemption I could seek from Robert or Jaime or my children or the _Kingdom_. I had only caught an infection before it had time to fester further, and the solution was to cut off my limb to save me.

By night time I had dismissed all my ladies and asked for only one thing -soothing honey tea. I poured the vile in its entirety into it not knowing and not worried that maybe it was given to kill me, and I drank up its contents whilst pinching my nose for the bitter taste.

When the dawn came, just as Varys said, I did not wake to find my womb emptied. I never woke at all. I hadn't gone to sleep due to the horrible contracting pain tearing through my abdomen. I clenched the soft white linen of my sheets and screamed into the pillow hoping no one would hear me, and when the dawn finally came I wasn't even on my bed anymore but on my chamber pot for I knew it would not do me any more favours bloodying my sheets.

I didn't think of it until I fell asleep with the definitive rising of the sun. Whatever it was I had just rid my body of, it was Jaime's. A wasted reminder that we loved each other, a horrible fantasy of what could have been, a hollow ghost of the walls of Storm's End closing in on us and pushing us together -my wreath crown that Jaime beat a king to win for me. Losing a limb meant burning a part of yourself that had to stay on your person but also feel nothing -fire cleanses, and the moment I made my decision I promised myself not to feel or to cry over what could have been -the life we could have had had he not been sworn to a mad king and I not vowed to another.

But if nothing had ever happened -if the Kingdoms had never been torn apart, then there was no way I could have known him anyway. This is how we knew one another, both bound and both lost, in a city of doom we loved and in a city of doom I lost.

* * *

The war ended with Robert's victory at crushing Pyke -even if he did not bring the Ironborn skulls to dust like he had promised me. That seemed like Ned and Jon's council, both wise and smart but too honourable for pirates.

Upon news of their victory and in the midst of the city's rejoice it was announced that we were to meet the fighting party up at Lannisport for a tourney waiting to be held by Lord Tywin Lannister in honour of their win against the Ironborn. It seemed like he was trying to make up for something after his fleets were so utterly crushed at sea against the enemy.

The journey up was long and arduous, with Cleora asking every day when she'd see her father again -which Renly was getting quite fed up with, and Steffon often wondering how hideously scarred he'd be upon seeing him again.

" _Do you think he'll have a big ugly scar on his face? Bigger than the one he shows us on his chest?"_

 _"Don't say that Steff!"_

And yet all I could think about was the turning of my stomach whenever I heard Jaime's name or thought about him. Every mile crossed closer to Lannisport was a step rolled closer to the tearing of my own limb -what would I ever say? Where could I even start?

 _Hello, Jaime. Welcome back from a well fought war. You got me pregnant, someone found out while I was trying to get rid of it, and now all of this lovely business between you and I must now come to a conclusion. Good times, farewell, see you back at court._

The West was grey with rocky mountains and slumped hills, but still Lannisport thrived in jovial colour at our procession's arrival where their King patiently awaited us -where his _Kingsguard_ patiently waited with him. I kept seeing the blood that left me whenever I tried to think of his pained green eyes, it swirled across a heavy pain of glass as his green went from pained, to angry, to violent and I, I would remain the same as I've always been -helpless. They stood there, all of them in their glory as if they were still fresh from battle and not waiting for us for days, and though it was Robert that stepped down to us and lifted all four of us in his big arms I knew that there was only man behind him waiting on hot coals for a moment to be in his arms.

Steffon cried in his father's arms -it seemed that he was extremely glad his father was not scarred from a pirate after all, and to my surprise I watched as Renly, now two and ten, took little Steff to one side with an arm around his shoulder and a hand to his chin,

"Strong boys like you don't cry." He repeated to him the exact same words I freely reminded him when he was not much older and far more pained than my own son, and for a moment my heart swelled at the realisation that even though Steffon was my first son he could have an older brother there for him like Renly never had.

Regardless of our warm welcome it was still made known to us that we were to 'rest' whilst the King tended to the rest of his duties -duties that i'm sure included persistent talks with Tywin Lannister who, to the best of my knowledge, has not stopped broaching the matter of Steffon's potential betrothal. And so we were led to our rooms by the expected volunteering knight -whom I had still not spared a full glance to for fear of being found out further than I've already been. Each child of mine held on to one of my hands as we walked to my rooms, and they knew well enough to be out of their father's ear shot to turn their attentions to Jaime once we were in my room -I was not the only Baratheon with a secret name for Jaime Lannister.

"Uncle Jaime! Uncle Jaime! Did you fight the bad pirates?" I kept my back to them and rushed to a sill as I found it harder and harder to breathe with the enclosed space and the impending conversation.

"Yes I did, i'll tell you all about it once you've rested."

"We're rested, I promise!"

"Oh I don't doubt it, but Shireen and Deemah are waiting for you, you don't want to keep them waiting, do you?" With a sharp squeak and a long groan emitted from Cleora they left the room without another word -but one body stayed.

As soon as the door clicked behind the departed and I heard the latch fall upon it it was quickly acceded by his laboured footsteps to me. Soon enough his familiar heat was pressed upon me, and I felt his large hands encircle my elbows tightly as he turned me around roughly and crashed his lips into mine.

My eyes stayed open even as I moulded into the kiss -like the very first one I gave him, and though I longed for those same lips profusely and the same heat haunted me after such time and distance I could still see the red of what was lost -of what I killed, linger between us even though I was lost in a see of golden blonde hair.

"Varys knows." It left me in just the second Jaime took to pull away before he could devour the rest of me -and with that said his movement stopped middway to my neck and he breathed out against my struggling skin.

"What?" _Don't make me say it again, not with your lips still fresh off mine._

His face, still swarmed with his previous need of closeness, slowly rose to face mine -as unwilling as it was to meet his troubled gaze.

"How?" He asked hoarse and blanched.

 _How? Because we were selfish and foolish and careless. How? Because I asked you into my bed. How? Because all of court knows you're the closest person to me outside of my immediate family. How? How can I say this? How can I break you apart enough to break us and somehow leave myself still standing?_

"I had to go to him...for Moon tea." His eyes widened at the mention, and I looked away with an almost sinister and bitter smile along my lips at the reminder of the humiliating hoops I had to jump through -there was hardly anything worse than coming up with a well thought of lie and telling it to someone who already knew the truth. "I told him some tale about one of my ladies in waiting being spoiled by a married man. It was obvious he didn't believe me."

"Moon tea?" His now gentle hand reached down to my abdomen and looked down upon it with confusion. "Do you mean..?" When he looked back at me I found I couldn't bear the hopefulness in his eyes -maybe I was imagining it for myself, but there was _something_ there.

"I...Varys gave it to me. I had to do it." His face went from soft silk, to gold, to stone and my knees all but crumbled as his grip on my abdomen fell away painfully and he turned away.

I watched as his shoulders rose and fell under his hungry breath and how his fists clenched and unclenched under his tumultuous stress, but still everything in me remained unmoving and to the naked eye unaffected. I could not yet muster up any tears, perhaps I had killed that part of me as well. It didn't feel like I was ending anything, it didn't feel like I was tearing anything away from me -it felt like it was slipping already and I was doing nothing to pull it back into me.

"Then maybe he believes you." It left him coldly, and I found just enough fight in me to answer him.

"No. He spoke to me plainly -he knows and he somehow knows it's you." He didn't answer.

"Varys _knows._ " I repeated, thinking that maybe this was just plain old stubborn Jaime -this was him being the occasional child he could be and holding his hands against his ears. _Playtime is over, Jaime, do you hear me?_

"I'll kill him right now." I was wrong -this wasn't stubborn Jaime. This was plotting Jaime. How someone could want to take time to plot and still be so reckless, I didn't know, but it was the man I fell in love with so completely and I softened at the reminder.

"You know very well that he's already thought of that. If he dies our secret is sure to come out." _It's time. All things must end._

Now it was Jaime that moved to the other sill with his back still to me. The sun somehow hit his armour in just the right light, and if I was not so stricken with _something_ I would have gushed like all those silly girls at just how much Ser Jaime Lannister looked like a God. Golden haired and strong -and unspeakably sad and angry at all the mortals and their doings.

"If anyone else finds out, you do know they'll have your head for it, right? Probably your children as well, seeing as the King obviously has little sympathy for the ones he finds offensive." _You're wrong. He loves them. He loves Cleora and Steffon more than anything. More than Lyanna Stark._ I was suddenly angrier at him than I was at myself at the mere mention of my children. _They call you uncle, and so you find it fit to judge what prices they will pay for the sins of their mother?_

"Both Cleora and Steffon have Robert's black hair. Where else would that have come from if they were yours?" I winced at the painful idea of a child of Jaime and I's. And furthermore, the pain of whatever could have been if any of us were free to choose.

He turned to me with the saddest of eyes and a melancholy smile, almost like he was reminiscing over a fond and lost memory.

"They wouldn't do you the courtesy of thinking you were faithful to your lover."

 _They._ It's always a they, isn't it? _They_ dictate the rules, _They_ tell us who to crush and who to keep. _They_ will have their day in the sun, _They_ get to put Queen Helaena back in her place now without even realising it -don't they?

"Then this...it has to stop." I choked it out, barely audible and yet when I looked up I knew that he heard me loud and clear.

I walked to a seat in silent defeat and waited. I waited for a thrash of assorted plates, I waited him to throw his sword against the wall or rip my sheets to pieces -I waited for his wild eyes and his charging mouth. Whatever it was, I expected more distance than the pit I buried between us at my words, but instead I found his instant closeness as he rushed to kneel in front of me with searching eyes.

"Let's run away, we'll get away from it all." His hards grabbed desperately at my own limp ones. No wild eyes were met with -only denial of the deepest kind. He wasn't seeing it -how could he? He he has not had a whole moon to think this over and over again like I have, he was not dead with every full cycle of failure I went over at the notion of our survival.

"What of my children? What of the Kingdom, what of Robert?"

"I'll put a sword through his back right now if it means having you. No more sharing. No more waiting for something to never come." He proclaimed it clearly almost like he had rehearsed saying it a thousand times over -almost like this was the moment he was waiting for.

Visibly, I shuddered at the imagine of his sword bloodied with Robert's blood instead of Aerys's.

"Don't...don't say that." I muttered quietly not quite meeting his roaming eyes.

"You don't want him to die, do you?" Once again his hands fell fully away from mine and it made me feel like I had somehow betrayed him by not wanting Robert just as dead as he wanted him to be. No matter what Jaime did or how much of my soul belonged to him I couldn't reach darkness -I couldn't want Robert dead.

"Jaime-"

"After everything he's done to you?" After all the empty promises, after all the yelling and pushing me against a piece of furniture with nothing but the vows I had spoken as consent for him to enter me, after all those times he looked at me and saw Lyanna, how was I any different? How could order a sword through his back when it was his face -his hair, his eyes, his temper, that my daughter wore day and night?

"He's the father of my children. I can't leave them, any of them."

"I see." He stood up - _same old stubborn Jaime_. This was it -this was his cold act. He still thought this was a game, he still thought this was me trying to hurt him and he could be haughty until I begged him not to be. This wasn't a game -why couldn't he see that?

"No, you don't see! You're not a father!" I didn't know where it came from or where I found my voice. It shook through me as a roar, petulant and hot-blooded, and the tear suddenly stung my eyes even though I was left wondering where they could have come from.

"Well you made sure of that, didn't you?!" He roared back with a condemning tongue and a clearer pointing of his betrayal.

The silence lingered heavily between us -he was waiting for me to fire back. But I had to disappoint him now, I finally broke in a way I never had. I buried my face into the crooked lines of my palms and tried to stop my foolish, foolish tears from spilling further down my cheeks as he stood to watch me fall. I didn't expect this to be any easier, nor did I count at all on him understanding what I felt for my family -the family I forged through all odds, but just because the blow is anticipated it doesn't mean the twist of the knife can be brushed off.

"So that's it then? I'm to stand by and watch while he has you? I'm to stand guard at his door while he dishonours you?" I winced at the reminder that our ending didn't mean either one of us would disappear. We were both sworn to King's Landing -both sworn to Robert, and wherever he was is wherever the both of us were bound to be.

"There is no other way." I tried to repeat it for the both of us.

"There is! Why can't you see it? We'll leave now. We can take Cleora and Steffon with us. We'll go as far east as the maps can take us and we won't have to hide anymore." He fell back to me once more and kissed my hands feverishly almost like a beggar in the streets -it was his last hailing and a plea of higher desperation, his eyes searched for something that I could no longer afford to have in me.

"And if someone catches us?"

"They won't-"

"And if someone sees us leaving? Robert will never stop looking for us."

"He won't find us-"

"Robert will never stop looking for his children. He would see the world burn rather than have them away from him." _Be cruel. You have to be cruel to end it. You have to have been cruel to start this in the first place. Remind him he's not your blood. Remind him he's expendable even if your soul wakes in the night just to search for his._

"I see." It was dead and cold -defeated finally by the looming realness, it was either this or the galleys for the both of us. There was no "either" this or that for me, only _one_.

"We get to end it while it's still safe. We get to decide while we still can, Jaime." I tried to sound as convincing as I could -I knew it was the only way. We always spoke about stopping, of whether it would ever happen or when he'd eventually grow bored of me, but we never discussed _this_ even though our very couplings and meetings coursed their passionate need born out of the fact that we could have been found out at any second.

"No, _you_ get to decide! This isn't what I want." He pushed my chair back roughly and all the things I had waited for knowing my Jaime came -the thrashing and the pushing and the yelling and all the violent pacing, they all came at once and I, still glued to my damning chair, tried to calm him.

"And you think it's what I want?! I love you." _Look at me, Jaime._

"Only you." We can not have each other, but surely he must know that? That I love him even when I can't be sure what love means? He was my destiny, misguided and bad for me in every sense of the word, but it was beyond me to think that I had any other end. I fall into him all the time -even when I want nothing less than to give in. Being with him is intoxicating and painful the more I think about it, and sometimes on those rare mornings where I get to wake with him I can almost see through his eyelashes of dun a past where him and I could lie like this for all the days to come.

He faced me finally, breathless and overwhelmed with the new wind of the aggressive air he was heaving.

"Then you must really not love yourself, Helaena." He tore the door open and slammed it shut behind him, and not a moment later I had crushed myself to the floor -finally free from the chair, and I stayed on the cold ground with my tears staining it -the tears I had never cried as a widow.

The limb was torn -wasn't it? The wound was sealed by fire, _fire cleanses_ -so why did it feel like I was standing at a funeral pyre waiting to get burned? Why did it feel like the only thing I had to hold was my phantom pain?

* * *

 **Sorry this took so long to put out -i've been out of town and tbh I was really stuck when it came to writing the last part since you can all now tell it was the hardest to write! For all of those who asked me to be kind to the two lovers -i'm sorry and don't kill me!**

 **Tell me what you think of this chapter and what you expect is coming/what you would like to see in the end! We have two more chapters + the epilogue coming and then it's a wrap!**

 **Review, review, review and lift my spirits or rip me a new one!**


	16. Forever Hold Your Peace

**A/N:** **Hello sadness, my old friend! You guys get why I had to do that, right? I hope Jaime's reaction was true to character...I tried I really did! More torture. Once again, a HUGE thank you for all the follows, favourites and reviews..you guys honestly inspire me to write more!**

* * *

Another day, another tourney, another forced smile at the crowd that looked to me for all the grace it yearned to have.

I was of course bitter about it in more ways than one -though I could hardly forget the nagging presence of my now past lover always hovering around the corner, it was another matter entirely -one I had done my best to avoid, that irked me on this fine day.

Betrothals, betrothals, betrothals, and all coming from the mouth of the Lion I did not love. I knew what he was getting at -we all had to know by now, didn't we? Tywin Lannister didn't get to marry his daughter to a King, instead he got his brother, and seeing as there was no way now that Cersei would ever be Queen I fear Lord Tywin had always rest assured that Cersei would at least be mother to one.

I fought it -I honestly did, I tried with all my might to push the negotiations off the table and demand that Steffon at least have _some_ choice when he is old enough to choose even though Shireen was so dear to me and my family. It had nothing to do with her -they were all just children, but the fact remained that just because they were cousins it did not mean that they would ever mean to me husband and wife. _That was my honour to have, it seems._

 _Tywin Lannister wants his granddaughter to be Queen._ I kept thinking it and saying it to Robert when he spoke of it trying to warn him of the dangers of having a man like him -or Cersei, so close to the crown.

 _"She's a Baratheon."_ Was all he would say, and I hoped with all my heart that it was true and would continue to grow truer everyday.

No sooner had Steffon's betrothal been silently sealed and brushed under the table did everyone else rush to speak of his elder sister's. Cleora's name was being dragged all across the Seven kingdoms; Highgarden for Willas Tyrell, The Eyrie for Jon Arryn's newborn Robert, Riverrun for Edmure Tully, Winterfell for Robb Stark -even though I knew that his own parents had enough sense to want their young heir to choose for himself one day, and all the way down to Sunspear for Quentyne Martell, all the high lords made their private bids to the King's Hand and he presented the options in the council meeting like we were choosing the best offer for our cattle. The entire ordeal was offensive enough to me and my daughter, but it was the last suggestion that made me want to drive a wedge of sense into the Lords suggesting it.

"Take her to Dorne for _what_? To be Lady of what, exactly? It is Doran's daughter who will inherit -not his son, and you already have Benjen Stark there to appease them enough." I left it better unsaid that there was no way in the Seven Hells i'd let my daughter be promised to a land that saw its beloved princess and children slaughtered and presented at her father's feet. I closed the matter entirely and was surprised that I even could before I realised that although Cleora was the firstborn she was just the princess -Steffon was the _crown_ prince of Dragonstone, he would sit where Robert sits one day and his wife would raise his children just as I had with mine.

But now I sat with a bittersweet taste in my mouth amidst the maddening crowd and their incessant cheers -it sounds so jumbled and drowned against my ears. I felt just as I had felt when I was being smothered in all directions, _"You don't have to listen to them."_ , as I recalled it I asserted now that I was right after all -there is no other way, you can only hold your spine up and dull your senses enough to let it wash all over you. It was either that, or listen.

Cleora, Shireen and Steffon all barely clung to their seats as they eagerly anticipated the next joust -there was no turning Cleora away from a tourney I had learned, and wherever Cleora went Shireen was always close by. Deemah sat in her mother's lap on the other side of Shireen to my left whilst Robert sat loosely at my right. The entire council breathed a collective sigh of relief when Robert made no mention of signing up to this particular tourney -they had been holding their breath long enough as it was when he went off to war. Well, perhaps not Lord Tywin, but that was to be expected. I looked back at Cersei, now a Baratheon but still glowing in the sunshine her home land afforded her with. She held herself differently here, with more pride -if that was possible. She knew this was _her_ territory now and every word she spoke to me dripped with smugness that I struggled not to think had something to do with the loss of her brother's favour towards me.

Though I may have felt his shadow, he was as far away from me as his position would allow and, as expected, there were no more shifts around my bedchambers. He was no longer just around the corner, on the other side of the door. I knew he would not come back or that i'd feel his kisses come suddenly at the base of my neck, I had broken something in him I was hesitant to call his pride. I smiled whenever I thought about our fights regarding that; i'd say he was prideful, he'd say that I don't look past him enough to see anything else. What else could there be? What else could I fall into other than the bottomless pit the mere glimpses of his love were to me? I found myself empty now and unnerved whenever the night came with no Jaime to hold or love me, and not even Robert for comfort. Everyone was exhausted from the war, all anyone wanted was to smile again. I was exhausted from my own war, my own fought battle, and all I wanted to do was remain in my bed and stare down the sheets until they burned to ash.

But I wouldn't do that -nor would I let anyone have the satisfaction of watching me crumble. I am Queen of the Seven Kingdom, and before that I was Helaena Estermont, daughter of Ellis - _the Siren of the isles._ I fell to no doom that any man could bring upon me; I _am_ the doom of men. Or at least, i'd have to look like it.

It would seem though that I had replaced one Lannister's favour for another. Obviously, Cersei had not deemed me fit for it -and so I settled for another's. Tyrion Lannister, nearly a man grown at four and ten but only just a little taller than my five year old daughter. He was short and sneered upon by all the pompous lords at the party, but he was a smart boy nonetheless. When he was presented to me he bowed a little more shallow than what was appropriate for someone meeting the Queen consort for the first time would usually do, and before I could pay it any mind or open my mouth to greet him he spoke far more eloquently than a rumoured spiteful, monstrous imp would.

"You'll forgive me, if you may, your grace. I fear if I bow any further i'm sure to hit the floor." _A clever little thing you are indeed, just like Jaime said you were._

"I hope you've not so publicly put that to the test, Lord Tyrion." His easy tongue intrigued me, and so I offered to encourage more instead of stifle it.

"Oh i'd never, your grace. But to stumble across a discovery unintentionally in public...that's hardly up to me."

"The Gods and the wisdoms they wish to bestow upon us -you can't pick a time for that."

"Or complain, it seems."

Besides the blonde hair, the one green eye and the occasional smugness there was very little to match Tyrion to his elder brother, but whenever I spied them together it was clear there was more than blood between them, and whenever I shared Tyrion's company a part of me I wish I could abandon somehow felt like I was enjoying Jaime too -like we are still somehow alive and for each other. But what use did I have for that now, after I held the blame for dealing the final blow myself?

But Lord Tyrion's company was not to be had at the tourney itself, for it seemed like there was less than any affection between him and his sister. He was wordlessly barred from our boxes and sat with his father -who did not look any happier having him there either. It was a strange dilemma I imagined Tyrion to have -to belong to no one but still walk and talk and breathe like them. I wonder, if Cleora or Steffon's birth had claimed my life, would Robert treat them like the monsters that took their mother from this world? Would I _want_ him to? I wouldn't want anyone to suffer for me, especially when it wasn't their fault and I was unworthy of it anyway. I suppose it didn't really help Lord Lannister's private grief to have his son represent something that was usually taunted in the Kingdoms -he never was one to be laughed at. They sat in stony silence next to one another watching the jousts, and at times I wondered whether Tyrion's sunny disposition was used to overextend his insecurities to something resembling confidence.

Everyone was participating in some way -be it the melees or the jousts, and while I kept my eye on a certain golden jouster the real star of the show was the newly knighted Jorah Mormont. A northmen and heir to Bear Island, still new and green, he had joined the main fight and Pyke and was rumoured to have slain a son of Balon in the process, but apparently he had proved his loyalty and valor during the war and was now set on proving his worthiness to a beautiful woman -as many knights do. It was a singular sort of driving force that i've witnessed many times; the prideful charge to earn a woman's favour. I knew most men would go to any length if it meant moving to impress the object of their desire especially if it was in such a public manner -and that must have been why Ser Jorah Mormont was coming out winning every round even though it was his first tourney.

And so, when he met with Ser Jaime for the final round, everyone was expecting Ser Jorah's victory since Jaime may have been a skilled jouster but Ser Jorah was running off his fresh victories...there was a reason they called it beginner's luck. _Not Jaime. Ser Jaime, now. Ser Jaime. Ser Jaime. Ser Jaime._ But it would seem that Ser Jaime had a penchant for being shocking when everyone wished he wouldn't be, and with one quick swoop down after Ser Jorah's charge Ser Jaime swung his lance all the way back and it struck Ser Jorah's back hard enough to make him fall off of his horse.

Once again Jaime had risen victorious when I had no idea what it meant for him to do so. I felt like, even after all these years and all those times he swept me off my feet, that I didn't know him _really,_ that there was always something he hid from me that was definitive to his character. Maybe it was in retribution -maybe it was only fairness, when he knew all this time that I could never give him _all_ of me truly, not like I could give to my children, maybe it was his kind of protection against me.

I wondered what the driving force behind Jaime's victory was for it to overcome a man yearning for a woman's heart and favour, and as he approached my box and lay the wreath on my lap like a pet cat bringing a dead mouse to its owner I doubted for a moment whether Ser Jaime and Ser Jorah had similar motivations.

"For the safety of our Queen." He boomed loud enough for the crowd to hear, and as everyone cheered behind him and repeated his chants the look in his eye disclosed to me exactly what he meant by it. _We get to end it while it's still safe._

I remembered my very first time -the first time I was crowned Queen of Love and Beauty, and I was certain this would be my last. Here marks the end. This is what he wanted me to know; I was safe. It was over.

I should have been relieved...I should have been happy that I knew for sure now that he would not come after me or my family, I should have been happy he was not a broken man with nothing to lose. But once I rushed back to the privacy of my own room, forgoing the company of Renly or my children, I felt straight back to that familiar floor as my chest constricted and I found myself unable to breathe. I choked out my breaths, my signs of life, and when the sweat was wiped off my brow I could almost see his beautiful smirk in the back of my mind as he brushed through my hair and swore to our forever -I had sworn with him, did I not remember that part? I had sworn and I had loved and I had taken and taken and taken and now I was at the bottom of the well with no voice to call for help.

That night at the feast I wore an even falser smile as Ser Jorah bowed down to me.

"You fought valiantly, Ser Jorah, I was sad to see you fall so close."

"I would be too, your grace, were it not for the solace that you wear your crown so beautifully." Charming, indeed, and still so perpetually in love with Lynesse Hightower with whom he danced all night long.

Everyone was dancing, everyone was cheering. The Lannisters, though the head of their family was always too prideful to be jovial, were all a source of lightning and merriment -especially Lord Lannister's youngest brother Gerion, who danced with every maiden that would have him and swung his goblets with little Tyrion. Seeing people melt down from their brass statues to _actual_ people -people who drank and laughed and danced, must have rubbed off on me slightly, for I found myself fluctuating between Robert and Renly's arms all throughout the night. Solemn as I may have been, I hardly found myself without a partner -even lords I had never met grew bold enough to ask for a dance and I found myself accepting most of them. It wasn't until the last man came that I found all the hesitation that had mostly left me the entire night return in one quick swoop. Never was a victor so scarce at the feast celebrating the very tourney he won, and never has a victor looked this unhappy at being a winner. Jaime Lannister bowed shortly before me, in a doublet but still clad in white and glory, and in this light and in front of everyone around us my heart broke at how much I wished to kiss him -just for the sake of his beauty.

"May I have this dance, my queen?" _You used to call me your queen when you had me, when you kissed me, when you touched me._

Many men had asked and had me dance with them that night, but I don't recall ever hearing of a Kingsguard asking his Queen to dance so publicly before. And yet I couldn't refuse him even if I wanted to, especially not after I had given my hand to so many before him. Was that the way he saw it? It would raise more eyebrows to refuse, especially after he had crowned me, than to actually dance with him. And so I placed my hand in his not realising that the last time they were there he was begging me to abandon everything and run away with him.

We took up the entire floor as we danced. His eyes never left me whilst they scanned all my flaws as the music paced, and I found myself lost in his smell again. He looked...tired...more tired than he ever was, and there was something strange in the way he made himself scarce all night as he kept disappearing with his father. He suddenly looked so serious -is that why Tywin Lannister was always so serious? Had he had his heart broken by someone who loved him?

"Why does it feel like..." I started, but I found myself unable to finish. I didn't know what it felt like, maybe it was that I was actually _feeling_ again -did I really not even notice the loss of animation all these days our souls have been apart?

"Like what?" No 'your grace' or 'my queen', I could fool myself into thinking it was just us in a room again.

"I don't know...like everything's about to change." _Hadn't it already changed, though?_

"It is."

The two syllables pushed me into alarm at his extraordinary passiveness, and my involuntarily my hand squeezed down into his.

"You're scaring me." I whispered low now paranoid -at what, I still did not know.

We twirled together just as the dance demanded, and yet contrary to what the music ordered us to do, Jaime pulled me closer to him so that his mouth was pressed against my ear momentarily in preparation to lift me up,

"Don't be scared. You have nothing to fear from me, not anymore."

Even as I was thrust up into the cool summer air and brought back down to solid ground his words still swirled through me.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm setting you free. You're finally free."

The next night, at a far quieter feast, it was announced that Robert was granting Lord Tywin his heir's release from the Kingsguard due to a precedence and in exchange for all his support in the war and his service in the council. _And perhaps an exemption from some of his loans from Casterly Rock._

People whispered, some gasped and shook their heads whilst some were relieved their liege would not be left to a dwarf. I only waited until dinner was order before I excused myself for the night feigning an upset stomach, I waited until I was out of the hall, until my steps carried me to my room, I waited until the door was closed until I lay myself flat on the friendly floor. I couldn't weep, there was nothing left. I suddenly knew what it was like to be empty again -this is what it felt like to be a walking-talking corpse at King's Landing except now I lay as still as any deadman i've seen. That was what he meant by my not being afraid, he was taking himself out of the equation completely.

 _"I'm to stand by and watch while he has you? I'm to stand guard at his door while he dishonours you?"_

Was that it, then? Out of sight, out of mind. He'll be off to Casterly Rock to be the heir he was always meant to be, and I didn't doubt that his father would arrange a marriage for him within the year -if he'd even wait that long. Yes, Jaime Lannister will marry a woman of suitable noble birth and they will have golden-hair children. I was never of high enough standing to be enough for someone like Jaime before he was a Kingsguard or I became Queen, and I have already proven just how far i'd go not to have his golden-haired child even if the thought of it brought both tears and smiles to me.

What would it have been like, I wonder? If I were just me and he were just him, would we be able to love one another as we did? Or did I need someone like Robert there to make me just unhappy enough for me to want Jaime? Was I sad that even though I had resigned myself by now to be without Jaime's arms that i'd now be left completely to Robert?

There would be no one else. Never. Not because it'd be impossible -it was impossible for my heart to beat again after I had broken it by my own hand. There could be no other, not after him.

* * *

 _"Are you leaving us, Ser Jaime?"_

 _"A lion belongs in his den, princess."_

I overheard Cleora's suddenly sad voice question Ser Jaime when they were just coming back from a walk on the docks. _Do you remember taking me to the docks, too?_

He was technically no longer a Kingsguard anymore, and therefore no longer obligated to carry on with Cleora or Steffon's company, but Shireen had insisted on going with her uncle and I could tell the children missed their 'uncle' Jaime around them.

Steffon, especially, had still not grown used to the idea of Ser Jaime being away from King's Landing while apart of me just wanted him to leave us and be done with it all. I wanted to tear the scab away with no care as to whether i'd continue to bleed or not.

 _"But...he'll come back, won't he?"_ Steffon asked me, and I would have scoffed if there was not already a big enough lump in my throat at the mention of his name. Ser Jaime was leaving to get away from King's Landing, I doubted he was likely to come back. But nevertheless, I grinned sheepishly at my charmed little boy and brought a finger to his chin, just as I did with Renly.

 _"Maybe to visit for a little while."_

 _"Or I can go to him!" I laughed grandly at his sudden announcement -at the freedom his innocence afforded him with. He would grow to be a man -a good, brave and just one I hope too, but he would be the People's Prince none the less. His duty knew only King's Landing, just as mine did._

It was a fine thing indeed to know your children would grow with you. I got to see who they spoke to and who wanted to shape them -and there was no shortage of them in King's Landing, and yet Jaime always found time to protect them from it. And I finally understood then that even though he was there to shield them from it all he was still only standing on the outskirts of the little world we had. It was true, I was keeping both worlds separate from the other, but I could see now how much Jaime wanted them to merge to one after I irrefutably denied him the opportunity to do so. Jaime had me in King's Landing, the woman who would take him only behind closed doors. But me? I had Cleora, raven-haired and always gleeful. I had Steffon, impressionable, dreaming of glory and with every day his hair dusted just a streak lighter to my eyes only. I had Renly. I had Robert. I had Stannis. Baratheons of true, and I was one of them now. How could I ever blame Jaime for wanting to leave when had nothing to say for myself?

* * *

The time came for good bye when he was to set off to Casterly Rock the day before we were to leave for King's Landing ourselves.

Jaime's former brothers of the Kingsguard stood in one line to see him off -some, I could tell, were bitter, but not their Lord Commander. He looked...somehow at ease, almost proud of the youngest man raised to the Kingsguard. Maybe he knew all along that Jaime's heart was never meant for serving. It wasn't the first time I caught myself wondering what the rest of the Kingsguard thought of Jaime's departure -did none of them wish they had fathers powerful enough to secure a deal like that? Or was their contempt more for the honour lost in leaving the order? Jaime once said that the Kingsguard could never be as it was -not without men like the White Bull or the Sword of the Morning. All good men, all slain for the last Targaryen Prince. Robert, of course, did not bother to see him off, but I knew I would never hear the end of it if my children did not get to see the last anyone got to see of Jaime Lannister.

Everyone said their goodbyes, and save for the quite forceful latch Steffon afforded Jaime's leg with it mostly went off without a hitch.

I could see it in his eyes the moment after he kissed Cleora's hair -he was still debating on whether to wish me farewell. For my part, I stood farther behind than the rest -I chose to be that day the Queen that would only observe, but as I watched his heavy reluctance I felt my own feet carry me forward to where he stood.

My hand found his arm gratefully, and with a regretful smile we wordlessly walked down a few steps for a better gain of privacy. Did we both somehow know that this goodbye wouldn't be meant for all ears?

I could think of a thousand things I wanted to know that I had never asked. _Who was there to hug you when your mother died? Have you ever seen your father smile? Who was the Kingsguard that loved someone he wasn't supposed to? Who else placed bets on the identity of Ser Llewyn's mistress?_

 _Why are you leaving? Why are you leaving me?_

"I can't...I can't be in the same city as you." He was trying to explain -did he know me well enough not to need an actual question?

"I understand. I would have left too." _If I could._

We stood to face one another now, as plain as ever. I recalled the insolence I forgot to feel the first he ever spoke so plainly to me and how it grew to be the defining thing that endeared him to me. What was my endearing trait to him? And how far had I fallen from his graces now?

I couldn't let him walk, I wouldn't let his arm slip through the crook of mine, not without him knowing just how far he stemmed into me. Just as my family was -he would always be a part of me. No matter where the Kingdoms would have us be, i'd always remember his name as one I wanted to write across my heart a thousand times over.

"I know you must hate me, it makes everything easier. I just need you to know, I...I will always-" He cut me off, daring to step closer in the process. One could mistake us for two lovers saying goodbye -wasn't that what we were?

"You were my only Queen, no matter how many had been crowned by laurels or gold. You are my Lady Love."

"Jaime."

"Maybe...maybe one day. When that man finally drinks himself to an early grave, maybe then you could be mine for all the world to see." It was treason to even speak of it, but I couldn't care less who heard.

I could feel the phantom pain again, the nostalgia of something I had never even had, creeping up and pushing seeds of illogical relief into me. Maybe I needed him to hate me for it to be over, but as cruel as I needed to be I could not deny myself the small happiness that he loved me good enough not to give up so readily -a part of him still wanted me. A part of him still loved me. _You are my knight, and I am just your lady love._

"Yes, maybe." I smiled wistfully back at him -those eyes that were still so trying, they looked like they were still fighting some kind of battle, like they were making one last case before the judge. _Maybe is the best anyone can give us, Jaime. Forgive me._

With one last thin smile, he disentangled himself from me and turned away, but just as his feet had gone down another few steps I found my voice speaking of its own accord, as I made an even further descent down to meet him.

"If we...if we were not Helaena Estermont and Jaime Lannister...do you think it would have ever worked? Do you think we would have been happy?"

And now it was his turn to hand out a doleful smile.

"No, you love me just the way I am." His some how cheerless expression morphed into one of his known smirks, and for the first time that day I found myself with a grin that I meant. He told no lie -at least none that I could think of, I loved him just as he was; beautiful, stubborn and just as trapped as I was. Who was it, really, that was being set free?

"Goodbye, Jaime."

"Goodbye, Helaena."

And all of a sudden it was all gone; the thousands of kisses and the hushed goodbyes, the fights, the makeups, the good days and the bad, all lost and forgotten with no Maester's book to document any of it. I knew that if I closed my eyes and tried really hard I could choose not to remember it ever happened from this moment onwards -I could be new again, I could be fresh and free, but I didn't want to be. I would rather have them take my hair, my skin, my flesh, than have the memory of him torn from my memory. In my memory he was mine, in my memory he would always remain and somewhere in the distance we could dance and kiss and there would be no one there to tell us not to.

* * *

Night came and I found myself inexplicably at my husband's door in the middle of the night. Once again, I cursed my feet and their sudden declarations of independence, but I stood still at his door hoping he would answer my knock.

Tomorrow we'd return to King's Landing, and though I knew nothing inside me had changed I supposed a part of me wanted to give myself the same chance Jaime was giving himself.

As I took a deep breath I opened the door to my husband's room and let it out when I found that, save for my husband standing topless in the room's centre, it was empty.

I didn't know what I expected to find there -perhaps I wanted to see the hard proof of how far Robert went to dishonour me to feel the bitterness I couldn't feel over giving Jaime up, but as always Robert didn't disappoint me just when I needed him to.

My face crumpled into a million pieces before him and as I pressed my hands into my eyes in shame I felt the hot tears stinging my palm. Within seconds, his heated mass made his way to mine -still shivering and shuddering from the sheer frustration of it all. He held me close into his shoulder -it almost felt as it did when he came to my mother's funeral, and his fingers stroked my hair clumsily and without any questions.

"Shh...shhh i'm here now. I'm with you. You're safe."

"I was so scared." And I was -I was scared i'd lose a part of me. I was scared i'd give it all away, I was scared i'd have nothing left to love. But I was wrong. I was wrong and that was what killed me the most -knowing I was alive and able, still. My senses were only dulled and not dead -and it meant that I was obliged to try again at some point. But I let Robert believe what I knew he wanted to believe -that I was scared the Ironborn would take him from us all this time.

I was at some point. But I was a terrible wife -a terrible mother, to stop praying for the survival of her children's father the moment she found herself at another threatening dilemma.

Robert and I made love that night in a mess of my tears, and I gave myself no room to feel disgust at myself for how false I was being. _I'm being good, I promise. I'll be good._ After all this time the roles had finally been reversed and it was I that imagined someone else in my spouse's place.

But he didn't feel like Jaime. No one could ever feel like Jaime.

* * *

 **Only one chapter + epilogue left! I will post the two together so there is no divide between them so the next time I post will be the end of the road!**

 **Hint hint: Next chapter will be a time jump!**

 **Tell me what you want/expect to see! Review, review, review!**


	17. Winter is Coming I

**A/N:** **First of all -sorry for the small confusion! I initially posted this chapter for all of a second before I remembered that I didn't complete the ending and I deleted it in a hurry. But anyways...**

 **Wow...I honestly can't believe i'm at the end of the road with this. Moreover, i'm so stunned to see just how invested everyone else seems to be in this as well. TeamRobert & TeamJaime is REAL. I've decided to split the ending chapter into two parts since I have a lot of things I want to cover and I wanted to get this out for you guys sooner rather than later -i'll probably have the next part + epilogue out by tomorrow.**

 **Thank you so much to everyone who tagged along for the journey and for all the support and constructive criticisms you gave me that really helped me better myself as a writer.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Ten Years Later

* * *

Renly returned to King's Landing from his tour of the Stormland's unequivocally a man grown -even to my own eyes. Stannis and Cersei had no further children after Deemah, and so per succession law in Westeros it would be Renly who inherits Storm's End after Stannis and it was only in the past year that he was formally announced as Stannis's heir. Seeing as Renly was now expected to be the new liege of the Stormlords it was only fitting that he toured the lands intensively -stopping at every keep, village and isle to see the people and be loved by them the way I knew Renly always could be. When he got to Estermont he wrote me a letter telling me how little justice I had done it even though I never ceased to speak of it. _It's been years, Helaena, but I find myself still fearing sirens at the turn of every corner -especially here in the land that made you. I wish you could have come with me...it would have been nice to take you home and for you to show me around yourself. Perhaps one day, when you are old and grey, you can come and visit your home and I will wait for you._ He was a man, handsome and scarily like Robert when he was younger, but he was still so sweet.

But alas Renly was still named Master of Laws at Robert's council, and when his tour ended he returned promptly to King's Landing -but not without a gift it would seem. On the same ship that saw his return it also carried a young woman -of course, when word came to us that Renly was sailing back with a woman in tow it was enough to rouse suspicion over whether he had picked a bride for himself on the tour. Even _my_ suspicion was piqued, me who knew where Renly's true desires lay, since it was an uncommon notion for a noblewoman to travel back with a nobleman. And so when their ship docked everyone was expecting to greet Renly with his surprising betrothed.

Surprising was about all the woman could be described as. She was tall -taller than Renly, with eyes of sapphire blue and pale blonde hair chopped short. She had the visage of a man, and lacked all the grace a lady of her noble birth would often find it mandatory to have -but Renly boasted of her skills in other ways. It turned out that she was my gift, Brienne of Tarth, my new sworn sword.

" _I didn't ask you to do this Renly."_

 _"I could think of no better person for her to serve. She is worthy, I promise, and I can trust no one else to make her understand it."_

I had my doubts at first -I had not had a sworn sword in ten years, but her heart was always good, that I could promise. Brienne was honourable, loyal and far more noble I could say than any of the other knights that graced the current Kingsguard save for Ser Barristan. Yes, here innocence and naïvety made her near un-bendable when it came to her high moral ground, but I suspected she'd fall into a grey area soon enough. We all do, at some point.

And so, as my sworn sword, it was Brienne that rode by my side as we approached the rising castle of Winterfell. We were a larger procession than what was originally anticipated -but when Benjen Stark heard of our pending journey North all the way down from Dorne he stormed his Dornish mares along with his wife and daughter and joined us promptly on the King's Road.

It was strange to watch them now -the little wolf and the luscious Dornish princess. They seemed...happy. It was almost hard to believe that we had sent him down there barely a man with the knowledge that she was still an awkward child. Now, they were both grown and -at least I hoped, no longer cursed Robert's name for the marriage that was made to ease the Kingdoms together. Their daughter, Elia, was all Dorne, if she had her father's eyes I could not tell -they were of the darkest, deepest obsidian, but Benjen swears he can see the grey in them. But the Dornish mass did not stop there -for Arianne Martell had seen it fit to bring her youngest brother Trystane along to explore the other end of the Kingdom with her. They looked so eager for adventure, and their Dornish blood shone through their skin at the very thirst and lust for life that they had. I daresay, it was a welcome change from the old crones of King's Landing.

Renly regretfully stayed behind in King's Landing with Jon Arryn, Surely the entire Baratheon brood was enough to shake up icy Winterfell just enough before the winter.

The nearer we closed on the castle, the more I saw my children begin to pop up by my and their father's side. Cleora and Steffon, now five and ten and four and ten respectively, rode with Robert. Steffon was the crown prince -it was expected of him to ride closely with his father, but ever since Cleora had neared ten it was clear there was no stifling of her wild spirit. She had a temper to match her father and a face of great beauty and stillness -one would not be able to guess she'd shout up a storm to get her way. There was no stopping her riding by her father's side -she was not a princess to ride in a carriage, and that of all things I was immensely proud of. As my two eldest children rode ahead I savoured the biting northern air with my youngest children, Jaren -now nine, and Amaya -now seven. They were quieter than their elder siblings but by no means quiet children in the slightest. And best of all, they were mine to have. I would have Jaren and Amaya for as long as I could, and they regrettably enjoyed different kinds of freedoms than their elder siblings did. Steffon had a duty to his people, he was their prince and future king and any way he could serve them was his honour to have -he knew it well even so young, and Cleora...Cleora was the king's eldest daughter, and she was a prized beauty waiting to be claimed by the first person whose family wanted their claws in her.

She was coming of age -it was undeniable, even if I wanted her to remain the babe that opened her big blue-green eyes to the world in my arms I knew that her duty would find her eventually. I was not a princess, and yet by six and ten I was engaged and married to someone I barely knew but was at least close to home, Cleora was a princess to Robert Baratheon and his people -she would be given the finest suitor with the most to offer. Already most talk had transpired between the Crown and Highgarden, with Lord Mace _offering_ his heir as a potential suitor to the princess. There were plenty of advantages to having Highgarden close to the crown -their wealth, their resources, their armies and fleets, but I knew enough of Mace Tyrell to have a healthy suspicion that his ideas were not his own and though he may be the family's head -it was the family's neck that moved him. Yet those fears had no room -for surely there were more to be had with any other family anywhere one looked, and so between the council it was already common knowledge that the most likely outcome was for Cleora to be the next Lady of Highgarden -all that was left was for Lord Willas to visit King's Landing and formally suit her before asking for her hand. Though it brought me no pleasure to think of my daughter still so young and a bride to someone she couldn't choose, I couldn't exactly say I wasn't looking forward to seeing Robert's reaction to a man formally directing his _attentions at_ his daughter -and how far he'd go to make things more difficult for the poor boy.

As for Robert, he never completely gave up on the things he did. I think that some part of him believes he _has_ to carry on that way, but for someone so ignoble to his vices he was a sure contradiction in his protectiveness over his daughters. However, even though Cleora belonged to Robert so clearly, there was always one other person bar Jon Arryn who she always considered a friend to her -her only other dance partner, Ser, now Lord, Jaime Lannister.

We never spoke, never exchanged any letters or news -I suppose we both knew that we'd hear of anything important from someone else eventually. My news came as I enjoyed a puppet show with the children that their 'Uncle Jaime' had married a Crakehall, a lovely westernwoman and a suitable wife for the heir of Casterly Rock. The next news came a year later from Tywin Lannister during a council meeting when I was heavy carrying Jaren that his son was expecting his first child. I smiled that day and wished him well. And the final news was sorrowfully delivered to me by Robert himself that the Kingslayer's wife had died in childbirth giving him a son -Wylan. I cried that night thinking it was my fault -I must have not wished him well enough, perhaps the Gods knew the bitterness I felt deep inside. I couldn't be good, and so the Gods saw fit to not only punish me but those I had loved.

Time heals...I suppose. I was still waiting for my cure.

He never came to court after he left -I should have known goodbye was goodbye for good despite all those last wishes. He was a father now, and I knew then that he must have understood me finally when he looked down at his own child -could he ever leave him? Would he have still asked me to leave had he known what it was like to be tethered so tightly to another human being?

Though Jaime Lannister never returned, there was very little keeping all the other Lannister from court -and not all of their presences were pleasant. Tywin of course stayed on -I imagine the most stubborn parts of him were just waiting to outlive Jon Arryn at some point so that he could become the Hand once more, but then again I couldn't assume to know what lay in Tywin Lannister's head and heart. Cersei tried to make her presence known in the early years after Storm's End but after Deemah and the lack of any child coming after her anyone could tell that Cersei had slowly but surely become relegated to Storm's End -whether it was by Stannis's order or by her own wish I could not tell. Lions like to pretend they don't hear the whispers. And as of late it had been the youngest Lannister yet -Lord Tyrion, who had taken to court much to his father's ire and my own pleasure. I hadn't had many friends at court -only acquaintances and one secret keeper, but it was fair to say that Tyrion Lannister had my ear and company. I no longer thought of his elder brother every time I looked at him -they were still so different! I no longer felt I had a part of Jaime with me whenever I had Tyrion join me for a meal. I was far from perfect, but I no longer wished I had packed everything and gone with him every time I come across Varys's proud gaze. How I hated being a part of someone's scheme -how I hated the sense that I had obeyed! I was to be _obeyed,_ wasn't I? Instead I was to just sit and wait for his calling one day -Gods only know what he'll ask of me.

I shuddered deeply as we approached the heady gates of the magnificent winter fortress before us. I was certain that a royal entrance such as this -one with the entire royal family on horseback, was uncommon, and yet I had too much unfamiliar pride on me to care about propriety for Robert surely did not. He rode first with Ser Barristan diagonally behind him whilst Cleora and Steffon trailed behind their father parallel to one another with their own sworn swords by their sides. My not too impressive height allowed me to spy the tufts of their hair before me and a smug smile involuntarily crept to my lips as I focused my eyes on Steffon's alarmed face examining the perimeter. Who knows what that boy is looking for these days -he had been shaken by the tales of the Stark children's direwolves on the journey up. But then again, a boy his age must already know there was a noble young girl, no doubt beautiful and graceful, waiting up North to be looked upon by a prince. He was much like his youngest uncle in that regard -a hopeless romantic. I'm sure the idea must have crossed Robert's mind at least once to make Ned's daughter Queen, but it would be for naught -it would give the young children nothing but heartbreak, for the pact was sealed so long ago. And yet still a part of me believed that Steffon wanted to make his father proud by doing what he couldn't -marry a Stark girl. He was always gentle like that, and despite himself Robert always found himself too uncomfortable around the matter -at least in my presence.

 _"I'm tempted to keep the boy in check." Said Robert as we feasted amongst the Braavosi visitors._

 _"What boy?"_

 _"Steff! Who else?"_

Steffon? Steffon is noble, he is kind. His heart was almost like Brienne's -it latched on to whomever gave it its free kindness and love, and I prayed that his open heart would not cause him to fall into things he couldn't get out of. By now his hair was a true chestnut, like mine, and his shoulders broadened just enough for him to be able to stand next to his father and not look too small. He was such a handsome prince -he almost reminded me of my brother Andrew at times, oh how I longed for Steff to see Estermont at least once!

But all thoughts of Estermont and Greenstone would have to evaporate from my mind right now -I had to be Queen Helaena Baratheon once more as Robert gave me his hand to help me off my horse after his very public reunion with Lord Stark. _I'll ask him later what was so funny._

Thankfully, my children -namely Cleora, knew enough of their manners and teachings to stand back until I had been introduced to the host's family myself. I never thought that out of a courtyard full of people i'd find Lord Stark's face to be the most familiar one -and yet life and the North were seemingly full of surprises up until now. And to further my surprise, Lord Stark's greeting of me did not stop with the customary kissing of my hand but with an added smile that I had not expected he'd think me owed.

"My Queen."

"Lord Stark, you must introduce me." And so he did.

By his side stood a tall, beautiful woman with long auburn hair, whom I correctly assumed was his wife. She curtsied down to me lowly and gracefully -far more gracefully than I ever learned to do, and I approached her with a warm embrace. I didn't know what it was about her, but her very association with Ned Stark and how her being a child of the south looked so...at home in the savage north overcame me with a sense of sisterhood that I could not shake. I had never had a sister -Cersei was hardly even an acquaintance to me after all these years, and yet Ned Stark was a far too dear brother to Robert -could Catelyn be my Ned? By the way her shoulders stiffened at the contact I inferred that it would not be so easy.

Next, I was introduced to the array of heads that counted as their children. First and foremost, Robb Stark; a handsome, strong boy with his mother's dark auburn hair and blue eyes -he did not look all too happy about being freshly shaved. He bowed down to me with all the correct courtesies but I could tell that he wasn't used to addressing anyone with such formalities -perhaps if I found him interesting enough i'd relent and ask him to drop them. Next came Sansa -a portrait of her mother, a perfect young lady, still very young but with such a gentle comeliness that I could not have expected the North to have seen before. Bran stood at her side, tall for his age and with eyes that could barely contain their curiosity -much like Jaren, and then came the impish little Arya who wore her scowl clearly -I knew that scowl all too well, it usually made its appearance when my mother would force me into dresses, both children wore their father's visage and colouring. Little Rickon stood at the very end of them in a mess of red curls -it was too young to tell still but I had feeling he'd be a wildcard of the Starks.

At the back stood a young man with a Kraken as his sigil -Balon Greyjoy's son, he smirked to freely for me to like him just yet despite the family I knew he came from, but I was too interested in the nameless young man standing next to him. He was all Stark, it was undeniable even to a southerner, and yet he stood with no sigil and his eyes to the ground. _This must be Ned's bastard._ However, I had no time to examine him further as the nosy part of me spun around and watched as the rest of my children were introduced to the Stark -it was also partly from worry that one of them would do something unbefitting.

It all went without a hitch, it was mostly Steffon's eyes that I worried about as he came across lovely Sansa but in truth they were both proper and probably too shy to indulge in many looks. But what I hadn't expected was when Cleora approached the Stark heir and they stood with wide eyes against each other a moment before propriety found the boy and he bowed. There was something there...even with only a moment, I could tell. I was accustomed by now at people eyeing my daughter in more ways than one -but what I had yet to see was Cleora letting her gaze settle on someone in return. Despite my own surprise at what I was witnessing I hoped that it was only I that noticed it and not Robert -it would do no one any good for him to be sour to the boy from the very start of the visit, but then again, he was Ned's son, and Robert would surely make exceptions.

After the rest of the party made their introductions and Benjen reunited with his brother -and I suppose became acquainted to his own nieces and nephews, Robert quietly slipped away with his friend to pay his respects at the crypts whilst me and the children were led to our rooms to rest.

The feast that followed felt like it continued on for many nights in just one, for I never knew how full the North was or how much fuller it would be with its new guests. I was led in to the feast on Ned's hand and Robert on Catelyn's -I did not need to look back to know Robb had offered his hand to Cleora, for his mother would surely think it improper for anyone else to walk her children all sat with one another forgetting on this fine night that they were the royal children and instead opted to being playmates to the Starks. Jaren, especially, was getting along well with Bran -a little too well since Amaya kept running to me to report back that they were planning on scaling the walls of the towers together.

It was all so warm, and it wasn't just the work of the hot springs that allowed it to be so. Everyone was so happy, so open, so rough. Winterfell was so far North, and Estermont was almost as far south as Westeros went -and yet it felt so similar being in this hall with all these lords just as it once did being in my father's halls when there was a feast to be had. The Umbers, the Karstarks, the Glovers, they all spoke, danced and drank like they were family to their liege -it was never like this in King's Landing. No one ever loved this hard and this loyally in King's Landing.

And yet despite all the love and warmth -Robert was certainly drinking like he was family to Ned, I knew that this was not purely a friendly visit. Chatter was being spun across the Narrow sea, and there had been new news on the last living Targaryens and their movements. It was clear what Robert wanted to do about it even though he never said so plainly in front of me, he wanted them gone and I could understand that, but what I couldn't understand was if he wanted them dead and gone so badly why did he need to come here to speak to Ned about it when both him and I Ned had too much honour in him to advise him not to? What part of Robert was waiting for some kind of twisted redemption?

He leaned back in from his conversation with Lord Stark eventually and slumped most un-king like into his sturdy chair.

"What did he say?" I asked as I tried to keep my eyes steadily on the Martells dancing in the middle of the dancefloor.

"That we'd discuss it later." _Typical Robert to bring it up at such a time, and typical Ned to refuse him,_ I nearly snorted.

"He's right you know -a feast is no place for this." He angled himself to me acutely and I now faced his eyes that held too much seriousness for someone that had had tht much to drink.

"Helaena, Viserys Targaryen is about to be potentially backed by a huge savage army. Forgive me if I find that a little pressing." His speech was clear and sobered, and yet I could not find it in me to find any threat in his words. Not with all _this_ around us.

"Why is it Viserys you fear when it is his sister that's marrying the Horse Lord? If anything it's her that you should worry about." For she would have her husband's ear, would she not? Or was that not the case? I can't say I know much of Dothraki customs, but men are men.

"Stormborn they call her -almost tore Dragonstone apart when she came into this world. I don't know why that makes her a princess worth following." _As opposed to our princess, you mean?_ I couldn't tell if he was trying to make some kind of comparison between the exiled princess and the one we kept at home safe at her father's chest, but there was no comparison to me -not in any mother's eyes.

"Well our princess wasn't born in a summer storm; she _is_ the summer storm." I said pointedly to Robert, and his gaze lingered on something else away from us before he grinned wolfishly.

"Well, you tell Summer Storm over there that Winter's Coming for her." With a vague point to the direction that had him smiling so I directed my eyes at the sight before me. In a far off corner -a corner which I knew a princess should not be standing in, Cleora stood with one shoulder leaning against the wall as Robb Stark spoke to her with a harsh blush to his cheeks. A moment later my daughter's hand slipped smoothly into the young man's and he led her out onto the dance floor with a shy hand on her waist to the sound of Robert's cackling.

"Robert!" I hissed with a slap to his still muscular arm.

"Besotted idiot!" Apparently the matter was too funny for Robert for him to remember that it was his daughter that was being wooed before our very eyes.

"Aren't you going to step in?"

"Oh let them! I know who his father is, I doubt he knows what to do with a pretty girl just yet."

"That's our daughter you're talking about, the _princess_." _The princess who is more or less promised to Willas Tyrell -have you forgotten? The princess who we both raised to be strong and careful. The princess who only really bothered to learn one of those things._

"If I thought he was a threat to her honour I'd hardly let him near her now would I?"

"I'm not speaking of her honour, Robert. What about her heart?" What happens to her heart when we leave Winterfell and she marries a bruised rose while she licks her wounds from falling for a wolf?

"I'll make sure she gets whatever her heart desires, even if it's the Stark boy. I didn't become King for nothing." His smile died down a little as he raised his goblet slowly, surely by now pondering what it meant for his child to give her heart away. Did he even know what that was like, to give your heart away and to have someone else's?

My palm reached over to the top of his hand and soothed it down warmly.

"And to think you once said you weren't meant to be a father." He turned to me, all bright smiles once again as the sound of our children's laughter hovered in the background.

"It was you who said that daughters belong to their fathers. That wasn't a lie." _Yes, i've told many lies, but not that._

"I know, i'm proud of you." And I meant it. He was the King he deserved to be -the King that his capabilities allowed him to be. He was not perfect, and neither was I, but we made a sort of still perfection together in our family. He was home, he _is_ home, no matter how much it hurt when I thought of what I had given up, I was glad I had him.

When his lips met mine for a chaste kiss I wondered on all the times we had kissed before to finally perfect this one -there had been so many kisses. Lifeless ones, forced ones, clumsy ones, hated ones, ones where we both tried convincing ourselves that this was more than it actually was, and then there was _this._ A heartfelt acceptance that we made something that neither one of us could give up on -we both _wanted_ to stay, and no matter what lay between us we would always be the blood that cared for the other. I had no doubt that any other kiss that occurred that night would mean the same as mine did to me, but still, there was no harm in retiring early with Cleora -just in case. You never know with these Starks, they seems to surprise you when you least expect it.

* * *

By the time a week had passed at Winterfell the young Baratheons and Starks had grown too close-knit than what either of their parents could say was healthy.

Cleora, surprisingly, was getting along grandly with Sansa Stark -I only hoped that some of the young girl would rub off on my daughter and better her manners a touch before we returned to King's Landing. Robb Stark as well, besides his bashfully obvious entrancement with my eldest child, was a healthy partner for my second eldest. Steffon, though the crown prince, was never particularly well versed in the art of swordplay -not as well as archery to his father's detriment, and so it was surprising to all of us that he spent most of his afternoons in the training pen with the young wolf. The wolves -the literal ones, were another matter entirely. As docile and obedient as everyone claimed them to be I found it hard to believe even as they latched and trailed to their masters faithfully. They were far bigger than any wolf i'd ever seen, and yet everyone else around the castle seemed bemused at most at their presence within the walls.

Jaren and Amaya were taken by the wolves -they were still too young to know true caution. I suppose that is why they both look so completely like their father -and carried much of the same temperaments. Jaren, especially, lit his fumes at the smallest of things -mushrooms in his dinner, losing a sword fight, but they were far from the same as Robert's. His anger rumbled in deep silence when he so wished it, and Amaya would sometimes drift on his stormy wave with some kind of blind loyalty to her brother's emotions. Jaren, he looks like thunder and Amaya is the sea that either calms it or rumbles underneath its wrath. Only she could calm him truly.

But today there were no thunderstorms, and Robert and I enjoyed our luncheon privately with our children in a cleared pavilion.

"Do you like Robb well, Steff?" Robert asked his eldest son, for surely by now even he had noticed how much time he was spending with the boy. I thanked the Gods he did not notice the blush on Cleora's cheeks at the mere mention of the boy's name.

"Aye, I wish I had met him sooner." Steffon stuffed some bread into his still grinning smile. I held back my disappointed shake of the head at the lack of table side manners -even Robert knew well enough not to chew with his mouth full.

"He's a fine lad." _He has your name, I doubt you would think him otherwise._

"So is Bran!" Jaren piped in as Amaya's head bounced in agreement.

"We could have been cousins if you had married Lord Stark's sister, would we have come to Winterfell more if that had happened?"

I knew that Steffon meant nothing by it -I knew that to him and his siblings it was just a passing comment, but my heart nearly stopped at the mention as I watched all the colour drain from Robert's face. His fists clenched whilst his unknowing children made to carry on with their chatter and I winced as he brought it down hard on the table in a clatter of red.

"Don't you ever say that again! You're not to dishonour your mother like that! Do you hear me boy?" There was only silence around the heat of Robert's anger, and Steffon's eyes widened with surprise to his father whilst Cleora, Jaren and Amaya withdrew into their chairs.

"Robert!" I tried to chide him almost as if _he_ were the child, but his seething gaze did not waver from the source of such offense to him.

"I didn't mean it like that...i'm sorry mother." Steffon muttered out meekly, and I leaned over to him trying to sooth the situation from an end I knew could be soothed.

"Steffon." He flinched at my touch and pushed out of his chair briskly, disappearing behind some trees as his footsteps thumped with storm.

"Cleora take your brother and sister for a walk please."

"Yes, Mama."

They obliged in mostly silence and all went off together in a direction I couldn't discern as my eyes remained stick and disappointed at the man sitting across from me.

"Did you really need to do that?" At this point I did not care about what Lyanna Stark still meant to my husband -God knows I thought it over before we came to Winterfell, but whatever it was that lingered on in his heart I had every reassurance from his words and actions that our family came before the dead. We were not ghosts to him, we were the priority -I knew we were, so why must he treat his children as such at the reminder that they came from what never was? And furthermore, why did he have to use an affront to me to justify his anger?

But all his anger had faded as he sat slumped before me and he himself became a ghost of a man. His words left him with barely any sound, drenched with regret and loss, whilst I and the wind listened.

"I...forgot. Even here in Winterfell...I almost forgot about her. All those men I killed and all those men that followed me just to die...all for what? So I can forget? For a long time I just wanted to remember so that this hollow crown could feel like it was worth it."

Sixteen years we've been married now, and yet still I felt at times I hardly knew him. I always thought Robert gave away what he felt the moment he felt it, that I and everyone else could read him better than he sometimes could, but at times he would open up a new compartment of his little self to me and I would knock myself on the head for not seeing it until then.

"You should apologise to him."

He chuckled lightly at the suggestion -we both know he was not one for saying he was sorry. Except perhaps to me -and even _then_ it was rare.

"To hells with the boy!"

" _Robert._ " I croaked feigning warning -I could bring on a storm if I wanted to.

"I'll apologise...in my own way." He smirked as he emptied his goblet and I rolled my eyes.

"If you take him to a brothel I swear to the Seven..."

* * *

Days went by in Winterfell and my hope that Cleora's heart would not be bound to a Stark dwindled down to nothing. It was clear that something had been made between them, for he had her hand every night and she had his eyes every time I risked looking. Nothing had been written up or said when it came to Willas Tyrell, but at least with the Tyrells I had had enough time to think it over and over again and smooth all of my concerns -this new development was enough to worry about without the thought of offending Highgarden lingering at the back of mind. And yet despite all of that, neither I nor Robert - _especially Robert_ , could not refuse Cleora's good heart and whom she wanted to give it to.

I knew I wasn't the only one seeing it -the looks we gave one another were meaningful whenever Cleora and Robb were in one another's company and Robert was growing restless at the fact that Ned had said nothing about the matter to him.

Eventually I had to have a discussion with my daughter that I both never thought i'd have but was also kind of glad to have -for it meant she had a choice.

" _Be plain with me Cleora, what are your feelings for the Stark boy?" I sat on her bed at the end of the night looking far more experienced at this sort of thing than I truly was -you only ever get one chance with children._

 _"What are you talking abo-" She tried to say with a flush and I interrupted her by raising my hand gently for her to stop -she need not lie to me._

 _"Cleora. I won't ask again. I'm here to help you."_

 _"I_ _...like him...very much." It wasn't a surprise to hear, merely a confirmation. She couldn't look at me as she said it and it made me wonder why -why did she want to hide from me? But then I remembered I had no mother of my own to hide my secrets and desires from...if I had, would I have done the things I did? Would I understand my daughter now as she fidgeted her fingers the same way I did when I knew just what people wanted to know from me?_

 _"And has he...said anything? Or done anything?" I was hardly worried that something ill-willed had happened or for anything to have gone too far especially with such eyes on the princess, but a mother has to ask._

 _"Just...you know..." Her entire chest was flushed at this point, and so I decided that sitting across from her seemed to confrontational for a matter this sensitive. I moved to sit next to her and brought my arm over her shoulder, holding her to me tightly like she was still mine completely._

 _"I don't want to pry, Cleora, and I know that this could be embarrassing but I just need to know if he's made his feelings known to you either by word or-"_

 _"Yes. Yes, he has." Ah, was that much certain her?_

 _"And have you said anything in return?"_

 _"I...I know that you and father said that Lord Willas was coming to King's Landing so..."_

 _It would have done no one any good to keep her in the dark completely, but I also never wanted my daughter to feel like she was something to be traded off with no say -the fact that she was being traded off at all was bad enough. But she was a smart girl -she must have known what Lord Willas coming to King's Landing meant._

 _"So you've not returned his words?"_

 _"Not words...no." Then by what? Oh this was exciting! They must think a kiss so scandalous. To Robert i'm sure it would be._

 _"I see. Then I have to ask...would you want Robb Stark to court you, officially?" the big question -the final reckoning._

 _"He said he would -I mean, he said he wanted to...but I don't want to force anyone." I've never seen my daughter this vulnerable before, so helpless to her heart. I smoothed my arm up and down her own with a gentle smile._

 _"If he truly cares for you like I think he does then I can't imagine he'd be dreading this."_

 _"Will you tell father now?" She turned to me with her big blue-green eyes suddenly worried, for her father's protectiveness had not completely washed over her._

 _"Do you think he hasn't already seen it for himself?" He watched her all the time, his eyes and heart are always over hers. "He only wants you to be happy."_

 _"So...what does this mean? What now?"_

 _"Well...now it means I must have a serious conversation with a serious adult."_

 _"Lord Stark?" I shook my head._

 _"Lady Stark."_

I remember when I was still newly withchild for the first time and Robert told me that he wanted to join Baratheon and Stark together while this child still lay in my womb. Catelyn Stark wanted her son to marry for love instead of marry my daughter -it would seem now that those two things were far from mutually exclusive.

I sat now in a private audience with Lady Catelyn, whom all my friendly efforts were at risk of falling to nothing after I said what I wanted to say. Then again, the woman was far from oblivious, she must know by now where her son's heart is leaning towards.

"I'm sure you know i've not requested your company in private for nothing, Lady Stark."

"No...but propriety would demand that I not guess, your grace." Her smile was cunning, but she shipped her tee coolly awaiting my initiative.

Thankfully, years at King's Landing and court would not have been for naught in this instance.

"You're a smart woman, Catelyn, and you know your children far too well, so I won't do you the disservice of assuming you haven't seen it for yourself."

She leaned back in her chair finally releasing a look of understanding.

"Robb and princess Cleora." She said with finality. It was now my turn to reveal my cards.

"Yes, and i've spoken with Cleora enough to know that it's not a one-sided infatuation."

"Does it...offend you, your grace?" She asked as she cast her eyes down a moment like she would see her future in her tea.

"Does what offend me?" I asked in befuddlement. _Who had said anything about being offended?_

"The interest my son has taken in your daughter. Ned said something about talks of the princess's betrothal." _So talk does travel all the way up North, after all. Or perhaps it was only Robert's big mouth trying to get a rise or reaction out of Ned._

"There _has_ been talk -far too much recently, but nothing has been set in stone."

"I see."

I set my tea down to one side -now was the time for the final play.

"I think we both want the same thing, Catelyn -for our children to choose with whatever limited choices they're given. Now, I don't know what Robb has said to you on the matter, but Cleora tells me he's made it clear that his intentions with her stem far beyond a fleeting infatuation."

"Has there been room to doubt it, your grace?" I could hear the hint of indignity in her voice. Starks were known for their honour, even an insinuation to the contrary was not to be taken lightly. But I would not back down -if Robb Stark had his heart set on being an honourable man for my daughter why had he not asked yet?

"Well...they're hardly subtle in hiding their expressions, so it's safe to say that my husband's grown rather restless that Lord Stark hasn't broached the subject yet."

"Ned's like that...he's been trying to talk Robb out of it since he thought Cleora's betrothal was done and dusted. Always so honourable." Her smile was relieved -as was mine at the reminder of how different my husband's dearest friend was from him. The irony was not lost on me that Robb Stark was named after my Robert, and now Robert's daughter was falling for his namesake.

"Of course. He hasn't changed."

"I doubt he ever will. I must warn you though, Robb is much the same."

"I would expect no less, not from any son of Ned's. So will you speak to your husband, will you tell him what I told you?"

"You would be alright having your daughter marry my son and be lady of Winterfell?" Would any mother be alright having her own flesh and blood leave them -near or far, Cleora would not be only my daughter anymore. But I vowed she'd have a choice, and I have seen how the boy looks at her -I haven't met Willas Tyrell yet, he could be a lovely man for all I know, but I knew as well as any that once your heart was set on something there was little to be done to set it back and turn it into a blank slate that would love its alternative.

"I can't be one to stand in the way of love." I've stood in its way once before, and i've vowed not to do so again.

Robert returned to our room that night with a relieve grinned on his face, and he raised his goblet to me

"Our houses are joined after all." I did not complain or wince away as he said it -for I knew it was not what he meant. Tonight I would rejoice in my daughter's happiness come the morning, and the knowledge that the young man who vied for her heart was as fine a man as any girl could hope for. _Handsome, too._

These children, they were growing bold with their passions. Far bolder than we ever were. I don't know whether to be incensed or glad for them, that they could think they had a choice in who they gave their hand and heart to. In the end what were our choices if we only had a small pool to choose from, anyway? But I waved the thought away as Robert approached me by the window with a goblet of my own.

"They're growing bold, these children." I breathed out -wasn't that what every generation thought of the one that came before it?

"Aye, I say good for them. If it weren't for boldness who knows how long we'd have lived under a mad King."

I elbowed him somewhere around his appendix.

"We only replaced him for a drunk one." His hand snaked around my waist as he spun me to face him, lowering his lips to my ear.

"Hush you. The Queen's not much better -I hear she has a mind for dwarves."

"Only when he proves to be better company than her husband."

"In what way?" He asked cunningly, and I brought my hand up to his scruffy beard.

"Many. Many ways."

"This?" He nibbled where my neck met my shoulder, and my eyes closed at the welcome sensation.

"I don't believe i've put that to the test."

"No? Let me have my go first, then." Robert's arms swung over me to clasp around my figure as he pulled me flush to him, lifting my feet just enough off the floor to pick me up and make his way to the bed.

"Typical." I laughed into his mouth.

 _This was good, things were good, we were all happy._

* * *

 **Just to feed my curiosity, in your reviews can you please add whether you are TeamRobert or TeamJaime, just for me? I wanna know! Please tell me what you think of this!**


	18. Winter is Coming II

**A/N:** **Change of plans AGAIN -i've decided to have the ending chapter be in three parts instead of one. I'm really sorry about the changes but even though I knew the content I had no idea it would be so much (and since this is the ending I wanted to cover everything and so naturally I kept adding things in). So yes, you shall expect the final part of the chapter soon with the epilogue posted at the same time -I promise this time!**

* * *

 **Catelyn: The Lady of Winterfell**

They weaved through the grounds of Winterfell together -her and the Queen, as they eyed the preparations for the feast that night. It was the feast in which her son's betrothal to a princess would be announced, and Catelyn didn't know why such a tentative Queen was with her when she could have been with her daughter.

There was a strange bond she felt with the woman that stemmed a little farther than the friendship their husbands shared; they were both not meant to marry the men were now married to. And now they were to share their children -and grandchildren if the Gods were good to them.

The queen's sworn sword -Lady Brienne, trailed behind them at a careful distance, and Catelyn wondered whether the ease the queen displayed at the woman's presence everywhere she went was genuine or not -Catelyn could never imagine getting used to something like that. But then again, Catelyn had never had to imagine being queen, certainly there were a lot of things to get used to. The first being that nothing was truly your own -perhaps your children, but never your secrets. _Does Lady Brienne know the queen's secrets? Does the queen even have any secrets worth hiding?_

She had prepared herself all this time -Catelyn always knew her duty, and yet to see Robb so young yet act like the man they had both raised him to be left her speechless at times. She was a mother, and she knew from the very first night how taken Robb was by the princess. To see that infatuation persist, though, over the course of the royal family's time in Winterfell was something that Catelyn had not been prepared for. The princess was lovely, of course, a beautiful vision of her mother save for her colouring, and upon getting to know her better she saw so much of Arya in her - _no wonder Robb likes her so much_.

"Did you have a feast for your betrothal, my lady?" The queen asked they strolled to the dress maker.

Catelyn recalled her first betrothal, how the young heir to Winterfell had kissed her hand with a wolfish grin and dared to kiss her the next time they met, then she recalled how her father had called her down to meet Eddard Stark whilst she still wore her torn black dress in mourning of his brother.

 _"You're to marry Lord Eddard."_

 _"Father?"_

 _"Tonight. We were promised Winterfell, and now Winterfell is yours."_

She married a man she hardly knew that night as her younger sister married a man nearly thrice her age in exchange for their father's men, supplies and support.

Catelyn chose the short answer instead.

"No, your grace, just a wedding. Did you?" The queen smiled in a way that concealed the same things that Catelyn had just tried to conceal, and it was all she could do try not to turn away from her in understanding.

"No...just a wedding. The city was still fresh from everything."

"Of course."

"Can I ask you something?" Inquired the queen, and Catelyn obliged her the best way she could.

"Anything." _Whether or not I answer is up to me._

 _"_ I'm surprised you were so insistent on Robb choosing his own wife. You didn't choose Ned, and yet you seem as happy and as well-fit as anyone I can think of."

Of course, someone would think that _now_. Of course, someone would think that after all these years and all these children, and how well his home accepted her and she in turn. Of course, after all the nights they spent together and held one another close. After all of that, one might not even be able to tell that when he came home from the war there were things that not even all those years could make her forgive with him. There was so much she could do, so much her heart could forgive, but not Jon Snow. Never Jon Snow. Not a motherless child with no blame and no say in how he came into this world or who he belonged to -and yet Catelyn hated him just so she would not hate Ned for him. Of course, it wasn't the only difficulty she came across in her marriage to Ned Stark -but she was happy _now_ , wasn't she?

"Yes, well, it was not always that way. I'm sure you could imagine that marrying a man whose brother you were betrothed to during wartime, spending not more than a fortnight together before he rode out to war and coming up here to _his_ home on your own...it wasn't easy." _And being withchild the way up and having to give birth without him there._

"If I may, your grace, you yourself seemed quite as insistent that your daughter have some choice as well." The charming queen did not bother to move her expression at the statement, for she wore her past clearly and calmly and bore it to Catelyn without hiding.

"Aye, I had no choice in either of my marriages, that much is true. And with Robert...it wasn't easy if you can imagine it. He had fought his war and lost the one thing he really wanted, and I...I hardly knew what to do with myself. I lost my father and my husband, then I got shipped to a place I didn't know...it was lonely."

"But you and his grace are cousins...did that not make things easier?" The curve that graced the queen's lips was wistful now at the reminder -c _ould she really forget_? Looking at the both of them together, Catelyn could tell without a doubt that they came from the same salt.

"We were still only children when we knew each other. He asked to kiss me once when I went to Storm's End, could you believe that? I couldn't have been more than eight or nine. Gods, if you had told me then that i'd be here now...helping the Lady of Winterfell plan my daughter's betrothal feast, I wouldn't believe it." The queen slid her arm through Catelyn's and held her close as their walk did not slow. She let out a laugh at the thought of the king as a young charmer -it was no surprise if Ned was to be believed. _He always is_.

"Yes...yes, I think it's a little funny how well things turn out despite our doubts. We should have more faith."

"Faith in ourselves. You and I, we're here because we tried and we had someone there to try with us. I don't think marrying for love would make things any easier...marriage is still marriage. But at least it'll be _their_ choice, something they could remind themselves they wanted to begin with."

Catelyn let out a light breath of laughter at the statement -she had yet to even give her warnings to Robb.

"My...if your motivational speeches are like that it's no wonder the princess is nervous, your grace."

"Just butterflies...she's always been a restless girl but I can tell that her feelings are true. It's a good thing she'll be coming back next year to stay two years before the wedding, it'll give them the time they deserve."

"Yes, and she'll have Sansa and Arya too. I'll make sure she's never alone and that of course her and Robb remain chaperoned. So hopefully you won't need to worry too much."

"Oh i'm not worried. Robb _is_ a Stark, after all."

"Young love is still so pure, isn't it?" She let out allowing herself to reminisce a moment about a boy that loved her and a man that wooed her after he had her hand. She watched as the queen herself smiled sadly as her own eyes traveled somewhere else in the past.

"I wouldn't know."

* * *

 **Robb: The Young Wolf**

The hall hailed loudly behind them as Robb and Cleora slipped away into the halls -one wouldn't think that this was a feast held in their honour at how well it got on without them there, but Robb was finally the princess's betrothed, and nothing would stop him from escorting her back to her room now that it was decent to do so.

The princess waved her sworn sword away the moment they were out of the hall -needless to say the man didn't seem too happy about it, but he was finding out that Cleora was hardly a princess to be trifled with.

Not that his intention was ever to trifle, that is. He remembers now, as they walked down the darkened halls only lit by candle light hand in hand, what it was like to see her for the first time riding in behind her father and by her brother's side. Her raven black hair waved wildly in the wind - _his_ wind, and the way her eyebrows transfixed and pressed against each other as she rode with concentration gave her gentle and delicate features a distinct roughness that Robb hadn't witnessed on a woman even this far North. Upon closer inspection, her eyes had some green in them, and Robb couldn't even count the times they had sat together pretending to look over maps of the known world with him imagining nothing but swimming in that shade of opal.

 _"You've never gone swimming?!" The princess asked incredulously._

 _"Where would I swim, princess?" He teased, for the cold would surely get him if the biting temperature of whatever body of water he came across wouldn't._

 _"Well, maybe one day you'll come to King's Landing and get to try it for yourself." It was still so new and unnerving to see her blush -she looked so high and strong on her white mare, could she be unravelling just as much as he was? Could she...feel, what he dared to feel?_

 _"Yes, maybe." He dared to forget all his lessons and all his mother's warnings and brought his young rough hand over hers on the table. She could barely look at him, but she didn't move her hand -and though he had yet to know all of her he knew enough to infer that the princess never did things she didn't want to do._

 _He kissed her for the first time in the Godswood that day behind a heart tree, and she told him that the heat of the hot springs must have been too much for him to handle._

But the days went by and he couldn't stop himself from growing more and more entranced by her -with both her beauty and her spirit. Everyone had noticed, it seemed, everyone but them. His father warned him after the first week that the princess was betrothed to a southern lord with a big, beautiful castle, and told him to keep his distance. He couldn't blame him father, for the last time a betrothal was broken it started a war, but the princess made no mention of it -and although Robb knew that sometimes things like that were planned without either parties knowing about it it gave him comfort that perhaps it wasn't official yet.

Nevertheless, after hearing that from his father he took a page out of Jon's book and sulked rather obviously during the next week.

 _"What's gotten into you?" Theon asked him during their afternoon training -it had almost become a performance for him to sulk under her eyes, and he knew very well she was watching._

 _"Father said the princess is betrothed to someone else."_

 _"And?" He looked at his father's ward incredulously_

 _"And what? And that means that she's promised to someone else and it's far beyond me to step in!"_

 _"Has she said anything about it?"_

 _"No."_

 _"See, when a girl leaves something like that out to a man whose obviously half in love with her by now that means that she doesn't want him to stop trying."_

 _"I suppose...wait, half in love with her?" Robb rushed to chase Theon at his obvious taunt giving no thought to the truth of it._

 _"Sorry! Sorry!" Theon laughed as Robb chase him around the training pen before adding,_

 _"I meant completely, head over heels in love with her."_

And so Robb stepped in any way that he could, and she let him. He danced with her every night, interrupted her lessons for them to sneak off and go for a ride, walked with her around all the places Winterfell had to boast, and though she didn't return his words or his promises she _let_ him have pieces of her he knew no one else had. He told his father, he told him that the princess had affection for him too, but he jokingly said -which was a rare enough thing as it was, that a young man in love's word was not one to be trusted. It wasn't until his mother came to him over a moon into the royal family's stay telling him that the queen had spoken to her -that Cleora had confessed her true feelings to her mother, and they matched his. It wasn't the declaration of confirmation he had hoped to hear from her lips, but at that moment it was enough to know that he hadn't imagined it -that it was only him that felt the soft pull of her own lips whenever he dared to step close enough to kiss her.

That day he had to stop himself from profusely kissing the queen's hand and thanking her -for Robb didn't know how much longer he could stay in that standstill. He wanted action, and it had been taken, and now he stood in the dark alcove of the princess's door about to bid her good night.

"Are you happy?" He asked her -he had yet to hear the words he wanted from her.

"Aye...very much." It surprised him to no end -even now, that she could be so strong and proud like her father and yet around him and around specific questions she was nothing but shy - _was her mother like that, then_?

He couldn't imagine the queen being shy -for her smirks at him had been all too cunning when he was in the process of unofficially wooing her daughter. She was a smart woman, and the closer he got to Cleora the more he could see her mother in her and the strange warmth she exuded -perhaps that was exactly what Robb needed.

He brought his hand up to boldly cup her cheek, and her eyes danced in the dull light of the small flames.

"May I kiss you, princess?"

"You don't need to ask anymore." And she pushed herself to him, raising her toes just enough to meet him at his height. His hands clasped on her waist involuntarily, and Robb was about to move his hand away before he felt her own hand keep his steady and then rise to circle around his shoulders.

It was like nothing ever before to not have to hide in some darkened corner or behind a tree to kiss this lady that had stolen his eyes and heart. He pressed her gently against the door still in wonder at how open and forward she was when she was bashful just a moment ago.

"I think i'm in love with you, Robb Stark." He heard her whimper as he kissed down her neck with a smile.

 _You are full of surprises, princess._

* * *

 **Eddard: The Leader of the Pack**

The feast the night before was a grand one full of exceptions that Ned was unused to making -added to that list was the fact that he ignored what he knew would happen between the two betrothed youths as they left the hall with their heads down together. Another unfortunate exception was that he allowed himself to drink just a tad more than he would usually allow - _Robert's influence, i'm sure,_ and now suffered from a nagging head.

How Robert could drink heavily every night and yet still be up and awake by first light ready for adventure was beyond him, and so this time he had to excuse himself from tagging along on the hunt Robert was taking prince Steffon on -he got the feeling that it was a conciliatory hunt, anyway, so it turned out for the best that he would leave them be.

He found himself out of duties to run by midday. Through the dull of his headache people were still so full of smiles at seeing the son of Winterfell so happy -and lucky to land a princess. Now that he thought about it, Ned couldn't really remember a wedding or betrothal that had been so joyous -or at all. Perhaps back when Cat and his brother Brandon were betrothed... _he made her smile,_ he remembered, _even though his heart was far from faithful he still made her smile._ But that was always Brandon -always the Wild Wolf. His sister, too, she had the Wolfsblood, and it ran too thick in her veins for her to be happy with Robert, instead she chose something else -something Ned had sworn to protect for sixteen years now.

As far as weddings went, his own -simultaneously Jon Arryn's, was not filled with the smiles and secret looks he expected his son's to be. It was a somber affair held at nightfall in a dark sept as his bride still wore a black dress torn in mourning for his perished brother. Everything was wrong then -he wasn't meant to be there, he wasn't meant to be Lord of Winterfell, he wasn't meant to marry his brother's intended, but they were all thrust into a sudden game of free-fall at the events that had unfolded that stemmed from a single tourney. _Gods take that damned tourney._

But there was another wedding he remembered -Robert's. It wasn't somber and mournful, it wasn't dark and dreary. It was full of cheer, heat and bright colours, but for all the false smiles it boasted it might as well have been his own wedding -it seemed just as sad. Queen Helaena was just a young lady on her own at court, suffering the losses that _their_ war touched and was now bound to the responsibility of picking up the pieces along with the rest of them. He felt just as sorry for her that day as she might have clearly been for him when she first knew him.

She stood before him now, her hand looped through his wife's arm, and though she had grown older it was the complete change in the emotions she wore that made her a different woman to look at.

 _"I just believe that our wounds -all of our wounds, are still so fresh. This war...it has cost all of us a great deal, and I fear no one has come out of it unscathed. We, as well as the Kingdom, need time to heal, your Grace."_

And no one listened to her when she said it -and both she and Robert suffered for his order. But now...she was happy if Eddard knew what happiness was, and so was Robert.

 _"You've changed."_

 _"Don't tell me i've gotten soft!"_

 _"No, I daresay you're stronger than ever now."_

When he reached the two high ladies of the grounds Catelyn excused herself promptly to chase and inspect after Bran who had been worrying her enough to send her to an early death. Eddard found himself taking his wife's place by the queen's side as they both smiled at the sight of Catelyn stomping after her son.

"He's not usually this troublesome...just curious."

"Oh it's perfectly fine, Jaren likes your son very much."

"Seems to be a habit." He smiled sheepishly down at the ground as he felt her eyes bore into him.

"You've grown funny, Lord Stark." He'd be offended if he wasn't already aware of himself.

"I try, your grace."

She looped her arm through his, silently demanding they continue the walk she had started with his wife.

"Your daughter Sansa is quite charming, the perfect little lady already."

"Aye, she takes after her mother." _In more ways than one._

"And Arya doesn't, I take it."

"No...but she reminds me of my sister." It was probably wrong of him to say that too her of all people, but at the moment he could help but let it slip out. Every day that passed Arya grew more and more like Lyanna -enough to have him worry for her.

The Queen met his sudden statement with silence, initially, but then he heard her draw her breath and ask,

"Is it hard?"

He smiled sadly as he thought it over. _Was_ it hard? To have your father, brother and sister all in the crypts below when you lived in their place -the place you were never supposed to be. _Was_ it hard? It wasn't easy -it wasn't easy thinking of Lyanna in a pool of blood instead of where she belonged here at Winterfell.

"Not when I remember all the good parts."

"She reminds me a little of myself, to be truthful." He was thankful for the change of subject that she had afforded him with -he was being selfish and sullen.

"Were _you_ as mischievous, your grace?"

Her laugh was airy at the memory. For some reason he couldn't imagine Helaena, the queen, being insubordinate. She was always the silent lady, the dutiful wife who knew better than to meet Robert with stubbornness, always the loving mother that worried profusely over her children -even Renly too.

"I had my moments -my brother was not much help. The scowl your daughter wears whenever she's forced to wear a dress in our presence reminds me of how much my mother would yell at me to do the same. After she died, I never complained about wearing dresses ever again. They're not so bad, are they?" _It seems our conversations keep coming to somber ends. You keep saving them just in time._

"I wouldn't know."

"I heard she's going to Dorne with your brother, that must be exciting."

Exciting, for _Arya_. She had insisted -ever since she had taken up Trystane Martell as a new friend her talk of Dorne had not ceased. Ned supposed that he should have seen something like that coming -her direwolf was called Nymeria, after all, but he hardly expected her brother, or his wife for that matter, to indulge Arya so. It was tense enough expecting their arrival since they weren't the two closest houses despite Benjen's marriage -and his happiness in it, Ned didn't want to lose himself worrying over his daughter's safety.

" _They'd never hurt her, you have my word."_ And Benjen's word was what he had to make do with for he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he were to eventually refuse.

"I wasn't keen on it but Arya wants her adventure -best she have it with Benjen around than by herself."

"And Sansa? Would she not do well to see the world?" _What does she mean by_ that _?_ He thought to himself.

"Is there some place else she should be, your grace?"

"Cleora likes her very much. And...well, Lord Willas still intends on visiting. I hear he's a charming man." _So the queen is playing match maker._

He tapped her hand over his lightly with a tight smile.

"All in good time, your grace."

"Oh why not? You're taking my daughter, it's only fair I get one of yours!" She sulked in mock childishness, and he bit back a rare bark of laughter that would have escaped him fully if he didn't remind himself to resume his seriousness.

"I'd like a little more time with them. I don't know how long i'll have until they leave for good." It was true -all girls were meant to leave their fathers in the end. Eddard knew duty -he knew what parts everyone had to play in the world, but he was still a father that selfishly wanted his daughter to know him the best before they knew everything outside of them.

"You have a fine home, Lord Stark. Your daughters will remember it well." She breathed out, marvelling at the surround towers.

"Truly, your grace? One day they'll visit other castles, i'm scared that their sense of wonder would demand that they forget." _I had almost forgotten, myself._

"Girls never forget their homes, Lord Stark, good or bad."

"Do you ever think about Greenstone, your grace?"

Her smile was toothy and full of hidden memories and secrets -he could nearly see her sail away in her eyes.

"Like it was yesterday."

Their nostalgic state of bliss was torn from its roots at the sound that came after,

"My Lord! My Lord! Your grace!" A squire came running with alarmed eyes and blood -deep, fresh blood dripping from his hands. Fresh out of breath, he stumbled to them nearly dropping onto the ground.

"There's been an accident!"

* * *

 **Helaena: The Truest Queen**

He slipped right through my fingers.

I got to him as he lay on a bed, its very feathers drenched in the blood spilling out of him. I fell to my knees as I grasped his hand desperately as long as his grip had just enough life left in him to return it and the Maester tried to have me excused away from the scene, but I wouldn't move. I couldn't leave him. Even as I heard the rest of our children gather outside the door, I couldn't leave. I was stuck, rooted to my place, and as I kissed his paling hands desperately, silently praying to everything I had given up on to save him I spied Steffon standing in the corner, shaken to his core, his entire doublet stained in his father's blood.

"Helaena." Came his voice, croaked out almost beyond recognisability, stripped bare of all the vigor he always had.

 _This is real. This is happening._ That was when the tears began to fall. I had always thought my tears too precious to lay bare before Robert even in our most heated arguments, but now -this, I no longer knew what I was doing. All I wanted was to give him everything I was too stubborn to give him before -now, my tears spilled into a sob whilst I shook myself down onto the bed with him.

"Robert! Oh, Robert."

He bared his teeth, bloodied from the internal bleeding, into a weak smile as I became undone in front of...I didn't even know who else was watching...

"Ironic, isn't it? Death by boar." He said before immediately coughing up some more blood into his other hand -I found neither of those things funny.

"Don't..."

He turned his gaze to me again as serious as ever, and sad -finally sad. _This is not happening._

"Will you take care of them?" _No, no, no, no, no I will not. You will take care of them. You're staying here, with me, and we'll take care of them together. And you will never leave us again -not for a war or a hunt, you will stay in our castle safe with our children and we will sleep next to each other at night._

"Robert, no!"

"Let me through!" Came Cleora's hightened screams from just outside the door. We both -or all, turned our heads and the insane scratching noise that accompanied her shrieks and stood in alarm at the loud thump that followed as my daughter, hair still wild and eyes searching, forced herself into the room her father lay dying in.

"Cleora." I thought it was a whisper from a ghost in the room, but it was still Robert's voice. _He is not a ghost. He is not a ghost yet._

"Father!" I thought she'd run to him, I thought i'd see her stumble in her pillow of soft silks and bend to the ground, but my strong princess was rooted to her place as her eyes welled up in a deep red pot of tears.

"Cleora, Steff, come here..." They both obliged, finally finding their legs, and hovered on the other side of him. It was only then that I saw the tears -both fresh and dry, upon my prince's face.

"Don't let Jaren and Amaya see me like this...be strong...for your mother. Will you do that?" _I'm strong. I'm strong. Come back to me. Dear Gods, I swear i'll be good. I promise._

Cleora leaned into the crook of her father's neck as she wept -and I couldn't help but want to weep with her. I remembered the first time Robert held her in his arms -how he kissed my temple and thanked me for her.

 _"Better you hold her now. I want her to remember your smell."_ I had said, and as I watched her bury her face in her father's neck I wondered whether she was trying to remember it now.

He said he would teach her how to be strong -but what good was that when she lay here with him as broken as neither one of us ever wished her to be? Her small fingers travelled to his collar as she kissed his cheeks trying to get back up and Robert's own eyes closed painfully at the loss of contact. _You always liked having her close._

Feebly, he lifted his finger up, pointing it at Steffon.

"And you...you'll be king now. Be a better one than I was." He nodded quickly, taking his shaking hand to kiss it and whisper something unintelligible into it.

"Now leave."

"Father.." Steffon tried to complain, but Robert finally found enough thunder in his voice to erase their doubts.

"Get out!" My eyes didn't follow them as they scurried out. No, my eyes belonged solely to Robert as his found the will to face mine fully.

"Would you like me to kiss you, cousin Helaena?" _Yes, yes I want you to kiss me. I should have let you kiss me the first time you asked._

I leaned my head down and met his chafed lips with mine not realising how wet they were with tears. His face was still warm, as it always was, and I pressed myself against him just as heavily as Cleora did just moments ago as I swallowed down my rising sob. When I rose again my vision was too blurred by my tears for my eyes to regain their focus -but instead I chose to tether myself to the feel of his tightening grip on my hand.

"I loved you, I think. _Really_ like that. I think... I love you now at this moment more than I ever did before." It was the first time he ever said it to me -the first time he ever _needed_ to say it to me.

"Don't leave me." I begged, I plead as if it were by his own choice that he was leaving. I never asked him before -not when he left to fight the Ironborn or all those times he left me behind in the capital, I asked him now when it did not matter whether he wanted to stay.

He kissed my hand for a long moment and left a trace of blood at the base of my thumb.

"Go be with the children."

It was I that had a choice in whether or not I stayed now, and I would make the right one this time.

"I _won't_ leave you."

"I don't...want you...to see me like this." His breathing was getting ragged, and his chest wheezed when he spoke, but my hand remained in his.

"I don't care. I'm with you. I'm here."

"Keep them happy, for me."

He slipped through my fingers. Gone, to a place no one could find regardless of what Gods anyone followed...Robert was gone. His eyes were closed where they were open just a moment ago, his lips were now washed and blue, his hand suddenly cold and slack where it had just gripped mine.

They didn't need a Maester to lean in and tell them, they must have known from the feral sounding squeak that escaped me as I understood just what had happened before my eyes. My hands roamed over his wound, his chest, his face, and I pushed my face down into the mattress as I wept like an orphaned child -he was my family. He was my blood.

 _Was_.

I didn't want to leave his body, not while my tears washed its sins away, but as the sound of our children's cries came from outside the door I lifted my head and somehow gave the order to help raise the sheets high enough to cover the wound and his blood and to let the children in.

Jaren and Amaya ran to me first, barely recognisable in their wild tears, as they fell by their father's feet and sobbed whilst Steffon wept into Cleora's shoulder by the door.

 _We were just happy...we had just betrothed our daughter to a boy that loves her...where did it all go?_ I found what little strength I had left in me from the exerting mount crushing my chest to get up and wrap my arms around my youngest children who I'm sure didn't understand what or why this had happened.

What a sight we must have been to our enemies, the great Baratheons, bent and broken before our dead King, weeping in each other's arms whilst his blood still freshly stained the sheets we cried on.

It was just dusk when his soul left, but it wasn't until nightfall that any one of us left him. We all walked together, wordlessly cutting off from the pack as each one found their own room. I was alone by the time I got to my room, with only Lady Brienne behind me, and I stood before the taunting door a long moment unable to brush past it. _We came to this room together, and now I had to sleep in it alone._

"I'm very sorry for your loss, your grace." It was what everyone else around me said, if I didn't know any better i'd think that was my new name now. But I accepted it from Brienne without turning around before I pushed the latch down and faced the darkness of my room again. My eyes kept eyeing the stamp of blood Robert left on my right hand like a threatening reminder of the truth -and yet I did nothing to wipe it off -maybe this way, I still had him. I couldn't weep into my pillow that night, I kept waiting for something that would never come -for the weight of Robert's body on his side of the bed.

Come the morning he lay in a Sept that was never supposed to be there in the first place. I stood vigil as the Silent Sisters moved around his corpse and my eyes wandered to the jars full of his insides -was that all he was made of? All his laughter, whoring, drinking, screams, were they just an amalgamation of organs? Was that what happened to them when they died?

When the dressings and blessings were finished I made my way to stand by his lifeless body, dressed in the finest black and gold doublet he had - _wasn't it luck you chose to bring it with you_? His eyes, always the deepest and darkest sapphires, were covered by the painted rocks that stood nowhere near as beautiful as his were. My eyes roamed his body, trying to find things that I had never noticed before. _They didn't shave his beard. They should shave his beard. He likes to be clean shaven. "I'm not fat enough for a beard yet." He used to say. I'll tell them to shave his beard._

"My queen." I hadn't heard his footsteps approach me, but now I felt Ned stand behind me as my fingers unwittingly sifted through Robert's beard. _Maybe I can keep some of the hair. Or better yet a lock from his head._

"Do you think I loved him well, Ned?" _Do you think I did him justice?_

"Far better than most could." _Even Lyanna?_ I nearly asked, but I needn't have done so anyway.

"Even Lyanna." He finished. It was so strange hearing that name come from someone else.

He was wrong, of course, even though I probably did love Robert better than Lyanna Stark could. I felt like a liar, I am finally as false as _he_ said i'd be. For everyone is watching me weep for my King, my husband, my love. To me he was my cousin, my brother, my mirror. I loved him and the family we made together, I loved his big arms when he would try to lift me and all of our children at once. I loved my husband well -well enough to watch myself die a thousand times as Jaime walked away from me, but it was not the love a husband may have deserved from his wife. He deserved more, didn't he? He must have, he made me and our children happy. Robert was the first friend I had ever made and fought to keep, he was not the lover I dreamt of in my sleep. Maybe after everything, I was the monster indeed.

Maybe if I had let him sleep next to me more, let his arms drape around me the way he usually did and smell the hair that so reminded him of his mother, maybe if I let him have me the days I let someone else have me he would have gained a little more gentleness and good sense not to die so soon.

"I always knew you'd die hunting -and drunk. I couldn't picture it any other way. Oh Robert, our children, you left them too young." I kissed his temple gentle. "You were all the family I had left."

I remember thinking, in those first months and when it was really bad, that the day that I would no longer be the wife of Robert Baratheon was when i'd finally be free. This didn't feel like being set free, it felt like losing a part of me. He was a limb, too, and I wasn't even prepared to know it was to be torn from me by force. I loved him, the Gods had no right to take him from me like this.

By the time the dusk had settled again the local Septon made the suggestion that no one wanted to hear; _"Should we bury the King?"_

I screamed that night for no one to touch his body, and stood before his corpse wary of anyone to touch him -I will not have Robert buried or burned, that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to be home.

 _"He deserves to be at Storm's End."_

 _"Your grace, I don't think the body will...endure the journey."_

 _"I will not give Robert less than he deserves!"_ I ordered, feeling more like a queen now than I ever had when my King was breathing, and I got the sense that even my children -who themselves were grieving, feared angering me further when it came to their father. But still, the one person whom I expected to be hospitable to every demand did not disappoint me.

Wordlessly, I left Lord Stark in charge of everything as I spent my time either standing in the Sept like a statue or soothing my children. It was he that organised our return to Storm's End through the White Knife, it was he that wrote to the capital -to Lord Arryn, and Stannis and Renly, it was he that made arrangements for Robb and Sansa to brave the journey with us -it was him that confirmed that I was queen regent, and the princess could not marry until her brother was finally coronated -and that it was best for Robb to come down with her and Sansa for company.

The day before our departure Ned Stark, the most honourable man in Westeros, came to my room. It was improper, even if I were not a queen who had just lost her king, for a strange man to enter the rooms of a fresh widow, but his intention was only to make sure I was well enough for the journey at first light. It was quite a subtle way to tell me I was not looking well -but black was never really my colour. I did not wear grief as gracefully as a queen should.

Instead, I took the opportunity to ask him my own question -a question that perhaps was wrong of me to ask, but I owed it to Robert.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to come down to King's Landing with us? I know you'd find it hard to refuse a grieving widow, so I won't ask."

"Now what help could I possibly be in King's Landing?" He looked down -for surely he knew.

"There's no one in this world Robert trusted more than you, and you always kept is head screwed on despite himself. I know he'd want you there to help guide Steffon." Steffon, who is good and kind. Steffon, who would not need you or anyone else had his father been here, still.

"You have Jon Arryn's more than capable help. You have my son and my daughter, I need to be here in Winterfell." _There must always be a Stark in Winterfell._ I knew Ned too well to argue, and I did not want to anymore. I didn't want anything but to put Robert to rest -to bring him to peace.

"I understand."

"But...should you ever write to me asking for my help, I _will_ come to King's Landing and gladly serve my King."

My hand reached for his and I tried to not be so surprised when he gave it to me, with a strong enough grip to match mine.

"You're a good man, Eddard Stark."

It took us well over a fortnight to get to Storm's End. the journey had not been kind -nor had any of us been kind to one another; we all seemed to grieve differently. Cleora could not even look at her betrothed even as he tried to comfort her, instead spending all of her time knitting a cover for her father when the time came. Steffon wouldn't eat -and the sweet boy I always knew was grouchy and sour whenever anyone spoke to him. Jaren succumbed to himself -to his loneliness, not even Amaya was welcome company to him now and he turned her away at every opportunity. But Amaya, perhaps she was the plainest and truest of us all -she would come to my room at night and sleep in my bed; weep as I held her in my arms just the way I did in my aunt Cassana's when my mother had died. And I? I was silent. I did not weep anymore, I felt like I had used everything up. Everything that had happened in my life, all that I had lost, this was the last blow that could be dealt to me -right? It had to be.

We made it to Storm's End as the sun pierced the sky, _can you see it, Robert? See those towers? That's your home, we're home now._

Stannis and Renly stood solemnly to meet our boat as we commenced out, and it was then that I realised I hadn't thought about what i'd say to either of them. As I approached them, we all stood stony before one another until the most unexpected one of us spoke first.

"I'm sorry, Helaena." I fell blindly into Stannis's arms -somehow relieved that he was there. _Is it really you, Stannis? My blood? I have you left._

His arms reluctantly circled around me as I pressed myself further against his neck, and after a few moments I felt a second pair of hands snake around me as Renly's familiar scent crept into my nostrils. I was in a mess of dark hair, of tearful blue eyes. I felt their tears -even Stannis's sniffing against my shoulder as my heart slowly thawed from the obsidian it had been since Robert died. Here at Storm's End, I was Helaena Estermont again, and my tears recognised me well enough to find me. Here, at Storm's End, I held the remaining sons of Steffon and Cassana in my arms.

* * *

 **I'm sorry this took longer than promised to put up but the last part was so hard to write.**

 **Don't forget to tell me what you think! Review, review, review!**


	19. Winter is Coming III

**JaimeStagmauler: I say this with absolutely no intention of being sarcastic or rude, but perhaps with those ideas you should write a fanfiction of your own. I've had my main plan from the beginning, and though there have been changes, changes such as those would change my entire story and so I wouldn't think it was fitting.**

 **The epilogue will be posted FIRST THING tomorrow -I didn't wanna keep this any longer since I feel like it took me a bit longer than expected to write this up...I think on some level I kinda don't want this to end. That being said, I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Stannis: The Stoneman**

They stood at the rocks of the shoreline as his brother's body was pushed by his family into the seas of Shipbreaker Bay against the setting sun on a float of wood. It was an old and ancient habit, one practiced and done unto only the Storm Kings of past, but to Stannis it seemed most like Robert to want that. He wouldn't have settled for the crypts below the Red Keep or for his body to be burned and reduced to ash -no, Robert lived for the glory, and what was more glorious than washing your sins away as you joined the rest of the Kings in the trenches?

"The Storm will have him now." Renly said, and everyone else repeated it after him -Stannis most reluctantly. _If we're not careful we'll start sounding like the Ironborn._

Even as the float went far beyond the shallow shores the wife and children left behind were standing in, they did not move from their place until any glimpse of his body was swallowed in by the horizon. Helaena, still in her gown and soaked to her knees, wrapped her arms around her younger children's shoulders as she whispered words of comfort that Stannis could not hear, lost to the wind, he doubted how well they'd work for him, anyway.

Robert had written his will years prior at the insistence of both Jon Arryn and Stannis himself. " _Do you have something planned for me?"_ Robert had initially refused profusely, as if death would somehow know his name and chase him once he wrote it out, but the reminder that both their parents had been taken from them in what never should have been before either one of them was truly prepared was the dealing blow to convince him. And yet still the will and guideline was written with the expectancy that Robert would live long and prosperously -he states that in the event of his death or incapacitation before the time that the crown prince is of age, which had been set clearly at seven and ten, Helaena was to rule in his stead as Queen Regent; or Stannis after her in the event of _her_ death and incapacitation. And so their return to the capital was not only imminent but vital to ensuring the Queen Regent's own authority -it would not do to have anyone question her.

The deeper the sun sank into the sea the farther back they all retreated until they were back in the halls of Storm's End.

Stannis had never seen his brother's wife so strong and in so much ruin at the same time. She was always young looking, even as her children grew to be just as tall as her, but when he saw her as they docked that same day her eyes were puffed and sagged even though her cheeks were dry. He could think of nothing else to say except that he was sorry for _her_ loss, somehow it didn't feel like his own. It felt like...Robert was just being Robert, like he had just ridden off to the Vale -it felt like it was meant for him.

The sky filled with the oncoming darkness like a parchment stained by the blackest ink, and when Stannis found Helaena again it was in the drawing room, sitting in silence and mute contemplation with his own wife on a seat across from her.

The queen wore a dark shoal around her shoulders embroidered with green flowers. _Surely you can not be that cold, winter has not come yet and we are farther south than many._

"Is Shireen packing?" She asked with only the side of her face in view as the shadow from the flames danced around her visage, casting her in a new light with every stroke.

In the midst of all the madness and the decisions that had to be made it was without word that he knew he'd have to return to King's Landing with them -but when his cousin took his eldest daughter to one side after the funeral he was surprised to learn that Shireen would be joining them as well. It was unnecessary, in his opinion, and he did not want to begin imagining what Cersei would say to him once it was time to retire -how she'd roar for him to undo it. It was a rare thing indeed for him and his wife to be on the same page, but stubborn as he was he also thought himself smart enough not to question the matter publicly; especially when the order came from a widow still grieving.

"She's with Cleora." He was thankful that it was Shireen that could be there to comfort her cousin -it was quite unwonted for a girl still so young to fall into the arms of her betrothed at such a vulnerable state. Even if, in this instance, he had barely witnessed her uttering a single word to the boy. Out of all of Robert's children, Stannis thought to himself that Cleora was most like her father -she had his temper, his passion, and now that Stannis could see it; his grief.

"Good...Gods know she won't talk to anyone else, if she can't talk to Shireen I don't know who else is left." Her smile was tight and the sound that came out of her mouth was too forced to commit itself to laughter. Stannis would know.

At that, his golden wife must have taken her cues, as she sat up straighter in her seat and directed her concerned gaze at the queen -whether or not it was sincere Stannis could not tell.

"Your grace, must Shireen really leave with you to court? After all, the crown prince can not marry before his coronation, and that's three years away."

Stannis stood, still by the door, as Helaena silently smiled the way he often watched her do at court. She sipped on her wine a moment before pressing the goblet back onto the cloth covering her thigh and looked at his wife with sincerity Stannis _knew_ was false.

"May I have a moment alone with my cousin, Cersei?"

The heated air of Cersei's indignity could be felt by him from across the room, and as she walked closer to the door and passed him her walk was starting to sound more and more like a stomp.

The door closed behind her, and now it was just them -cousin to cousin.

"Does the room seem lighter to you?" She asked, and though Stannis never had any particular mind for humour this was a form he enjoyed far less than any other. He knew that there was no love lost between his brother's wife and his own -or if he were being honest between himself and his wife, but he was only used to hearing Robert complain about Cersei and not Helaena. Even then, Stannis would make it clear it was undesired, and now, still, he didn't want Helaena to pick up her dead husband's habit.

"She wasn't wrong for asking." She wasn't. Shireen was his daughter, too. He had named her himself -she would be his heir if she wasn't already going to be queen and the Baratheon name needed to continue in Storm's End, and so the thought of resigning her to her fate so early even though it was her duty grated upon him enough for him to have to resist grinding his teeth.

"Steffon needs to prepare to be King, and being a King means having a Queen. Trust me when I say it's best she get used to life at court now rather than later." She sounded resigned, herself, but he supposed it made sense. And besides, his fears aside, Stannis had no worry over his nephew's treatment of his daughter -the boy's colouring was not the only thing he didn't inherit from his father.

"You couldn't say that to Cersei?" He stepped closer to her suddenly frustrated by the numerous veils the flames afforded her with -why did she get to hide? She finally turned to him as he approached, almost flippantly, and wore a smirk of far more truth than any of her other pleasantries that day.

" _You_ try telling Cersei she doesn't know what it's like being queen." _She wears the reminder every day._ He sometimes thought that was why she rarely took kindly to Shireen or never took the time to talk with her about the engagement at all -he had studied her enough to understand what jealousy might linger in her heart for her daughter getting what she herself was always promised.

"I used to wonder all the time," Helaena began again, and Stannis looked into the flames with her trying to find what consumed her, "why it was me that was asked to marry him and not Cersei -why our roles weren't reversed; or why I was in the equation at all." He knew -he remembered that day and the conversation well.

It almost came down to it, it would have been easy to relent to Tywin Lannister after seeing the proof that stained the throne room red, but Jon Arryn and Ned Stark had more than a few misgivings about letting someone like Tywin Lannister so close to the crown. He was a prideful man, yes, but no less scheming. His own son had slain the Mad King when it suited his father's convenience -and if he gave the order for killing the Dornish Princess and her babes so easily as a necessary evil how would he take making different orders surrounding the new king as a 'necessary evil'. They needed to make Tywin Lannister feel like they were still owed; like he was not the hero for joining the war in a shameful bloodbath at the last moment now that the winning side had prospered.

Many names were suggested after the council was dismissed -Janna or Mina Tyrell to help with prosperity, a Frey as well, but then Jon Arryn recalled that they had a female cousin from their mother's side and a glassed look set down upon Robert's face. He excused the council and took Stannis to one side -and it was clear to him then that only one of those options was being considered.

 _"What do you think of cousin Helaena?"_

 _"She'll...do."_ He had reduced an entire woman -a queen, to only two words.

"Cersei married to Robert. Could you imagine?" It left her in a snort -an obvious affront to him and his wife to consider that she would be an ill queen. _She probably would be, she overestimates herself greatly and believes herself to be far more cunning than she really is._ But an affront remained one even if it held truth.

"That's my wife you're talking about." Even as he said it, he couldn't help imagine what it would have looked like to see Cersei's blond hair standing next to Robert in the great Sept on his wedding day. She was too unforgiving a wife -which was lucky for Stannis to have since he never did anything worth forgiveness, and her tired plots would have run her to the ground in a place like King's Landing regardless of how much she fancied herself an expert at court intrigue. _They'd probably kill each other by their first anniversary._

"You're right. I'm sorry, cousin. Forgive me." She looked down in her cup regrettably reminded that she was no one's wife now, and when she raised her head again she looked just as far away as the flames led her to be.

"I always knew i'd outlive him, I just didn't think it'd happen so soon. Is that treason? I don't know. Don't answer that." _The wine has caught up to her_.

"You're grieving." He uttered with an ending tone to his voice, it was a statement, not a suggestion.

She turned sharply to him and squinted her eyes obscurely trying to study him.

"So are you. Aren't you?" Who was she to scrutinise him in his own home?

" _Of course_ I am. He was my brother."

"And now his son, your nephew, has taken his place. Will you serve him? As our Hand?" The sudden question stunned him - _was that why she requested a private word?_ He was Master-of-Ships, and a capable one -an honour bestowed upon him, surely, and a trying one at that. But Hand? Robert would have never chosen him for a hand.

"I did my duty -I did what my king and brother asked of me."

"And what about what the Queen Regent asks of you? What about your brother's widow? What about _your_ cousin? Does your duty not bind you to me in any way?"

Annoyance crept its way up through his throat and bubbled through as he ground them out to silence. It was unworthy to wave that in his face when he had done nothing but serve them -but be loyal to them when he knew he was treated as the black sheep.

"Isn't Jon Arryn still hand? He has not let you down terribly enough to be dismissed. And if you were to replace him, anyway, wouldn't you be happier asking _Ned Stark_? It's what Robert would have wanted." He made no move to hide his disdain when he said the words. It was by no personal dislike of Lord Stark himself -just the petty sense of injustice he allowed himself to feel time and time again when he felt closer as a brother to the stone statues in the castle than he did with Robert whenever Lord Stark was there.

"Why do you say things like that, Stannis?" She rolled her eyes up at the ceiling and leaned back in her chair, chiding him like a child as if these were his regular outbursts.

"Are you insinuating they have no substance? I loved my brother but it was always clear who he preferred. If not Ned Stark, then Renly -he made that obvious when he kept him at court when I moved to Storm's End." At his mention of his younger brother the widowed queen shot back up to attention as she clutched the end of her seat with her free hand."

"We did that - _I_ did that, because Renly needed me. And now Steffon needs _you_." She was trying to guilt him -she knew he always did his duty and that is what she would hold him to. His feet were finding less and less to stand up, and the queen held on to that like a lion sniffing blood as she pressed on with her voice that always calmed him.

"Jon Arryn is old. He is dear to me, of course, but he deserves to be back where he belongs. Robert refused to ever let him leave...and he was wrong to do that. He was wrong about a lot of things...but never about you." Her voice broke half-way through at the mention, but she persevered with what spirit the flames renewed her with, "I trust _you_. I trust you more than I trust _anyone_ else because I know you'll always do what's right. You're our family -you're _my_ family, and have I ever refused you when you needed me?" He knew what she meant - _all those times I held Deemah when her mother couldn't, all those times I took Shireen under my wing like she was my own daughter when her mother refused,_ she meant it implicitly, and even without that Stannis had to see by now that there was no escape; _he_ was the royal family.

"I have a question."

"Ask me." She offered hurriedly, and yet he took his time as he sat on the seat in front of her finally and poured himself a goblet of his own.

"Who'll be my replacement as master of ships?"

He wasn't a man fond of smiling, but his cousin's smile in that moment and on that very day was worth the hours and leagues he'd spend sharing his time between two cities.

* * *

 **Cleora: The Summer Storm**

Cleora's hands gripped the rough and worn edges of her balcony tightly, the salt in the air here was both calming and damning to her at the same time.

 _This is where my father was born, this is where we put him to his final rest._

She had been horrible the entire way down since the very dusk her world tore her apart from that which was most dear, she knew, but no one would ever blame her for it. No one _could_ ever blame her for it if they knew what it meant to be loved so fully by another person and weep into their shoulder as they slipped away.

She was angry at everyone -at Winterfell for being there, at Steffon for not anticipating it, at Robb for making her so happy before she was doomed, even at her mother for not being with him when he was there but pushing them all out when his last seconds were precious. She wanted to be there, she wanted to see it until the end, maybe then she wouldn't be haunted by him in her dreams. Every single night since it happened she had dreamt of him, and every single night he would tell her that he was still there but hiding away because he wanted to go on holiday.

" _Take me with you, father."_

 _"Nonsense, what would your mother do without you?"_

Cleora was still so consumed by the hollow sound of his voice -the way she heard it when her eyes were asleep, that she didn't register her mother come in and join her standing parallel to where she already stood.

"You don't remember coming here for the first time, it was for Steffon's tourney." Her mother breathed out into the lost wind. _Yes, the tourney that saw Ser Jaime Lannister push father off his horse, perhaps if father one again I would have been crowned once more instead of my mother. Perhaps it was better the way it happened, one crown is enough even if you don't remember it. Ser Jaime chose well._

For a long time that man was 'Uncle Jaime' to Cleora, it was almost second nature -even after he left. But as the years passed he became more and more like a ghost to them -like a distant legend that their Septa told them about as a treat when they ate all their vegetables. He was real; he _had_ to be. _He was Mama's dear friend, he always protected her and made her smile with words I couldn't understand -he taught me how to dance properly._ She distinctly remembered the sight and sound of his sheathed sword clanking against his left leg as she made him waltz her around the drawing room over and over again until she perfected it. _I wonder what happened to him after his wife died. Is he happy? Can he be happy? Was he ever?_ Was that what her father would be now -a ghost? A collection of memories?

"It's nice here. I'm always surprised it's this...peaceful."

This was _Storm's End_ , forged out of a sea god's wrath. Both of her parents were born and raised to these lands, and whenever she had come here before she could hear their familiar roars in the rumbling thunder and understand where they got it from -but this time there was no thunder and no rain; only the saddest stillness.

She looked back at her mother -to whom Cleora had been especially neglectful of. She was the older sibling and always the one to hold the spine steady when it was starting to crumble; she'll never forget how far she'd had to go to distract Steffon and Jaren after they had to put down their hawks for being lame. But what they all lost was no hawk; they lost their spine, their castle, their crowns. _He gave us our crowns -what use do we have for them when he is not there?_ She considered her siblings, of course, but she rarely had time to think about her mother.

It was her mother who had whimpered like a wounded animal when their father's soul left him; it was her mother that stood vigil by his corpse all day and screamed in a sept for no one to touch his body.

"Yes, I remember thinking that too when I came here for the first time myself."

 _Was Estermont nothing like Storm's End, after all?_ She recalled nothing from her mother's stories that suggested it -but her _uncle's_ stories, they were different indeed. Full of whimsical adventures of him and her mother, the graceful and willowy queen, sailing away and hiding bones in the dirt trying to make wishes. _If I buried something in the ground here...would my wish come true? Would the ground give me back what I have lost?_

"Do you see... _that_ window -over there! That was your father's room when he was a boy." Her mother pointed out as she neared even closer to where Cleora stood, and to the direction she was pointing Cleora could make out a darkened sill.

"How do you know that?" Cleora smiled -it felt like her face had forgotten the stress of smiling these past few weeks, and in turn the apples of her mother's cheeks formed a youthful blush as she returned it.

"He took me there once to show me 'the best view of Storm's End'. See that spot -you could see it clearly from his window, that's where your uncle Stannis liked to sulk." Cleora barked in laughter at the scene -which was in truth not so hard to imagine, before she felt an invisible string latch around her throat and bring her to a stop.

"It hurts to laugh. He always made great fun of my laugh."

She looked down upon her fidgeting hands. A moment later her mother's hands crept over them, and she lifted her head to face her maker.

"He would _want_ you to be happy. Do you think he wouldn't? He agreed to part with you and let you live at Winterfell just to because your heart desired it." Her mother said as she stroked the side of her cheek against the burning light of a dying sun. _I remember. I could never forget._

 _"I hope you're happy now."_

 _"I am, father...very much."_

 _"Don't forget yourself...you'll always be a Baratheon. You'll always be my daughter."_

He hugged and kissed her head in the middle of the dance floor during that feast, and when he was done telling her he'd miss her he swung her in his arms like he did when she was a child.

She had been far off the precipice of happiness after that feast. She had woken feeling leagues away from herself, brushing her lips against her fingers trying to remember what it felt like for Robb's lips to be against them again. She kept thinking, _I won't have to remember after we wed, I can have his kisses freely whenever I please when he becomes my husband._ She was at the height of herself -she had made her own choice and she was falling in love with it, so what kind of sick, twisted irony did the Gods have to rob that of her so cruelly the day after? What _right_ did they have to take her father from her like that? Growing up, her father would tell her the story of Elenei, the daughter of a sea god, who chose her husband and in her father's wrath he created Storm's End and yet they lived -the lovers lived, he told her that the Gods could be defied -you just had to be strong enough to brave the storm. But she wasn't strong -she wasn't strong at all. She had a temper, she threw a fit and thundered about to make it known, but what strength did that carry? What good was any of that, if you can not defy a god?

"It doesn't mean I can just... _be_ happy."

"I know, but we'll get there."

Even nodding felt like a lie to her. It was true that they were all destined to outlive their parents -she never wanted to see the day her mother or father would weep for their children, but it wasn't supposed to happen like this. Not when they were all happy just fleeting moments ago.

"He loved you so much, my darling. He was so sad before you came, and after... you were the only one his eyes could see." The tears welled up in Cleora's eyes, a mirror to her mother's, and yet she continued to speak of things that would only remind them both of the person who had sailed away from this world. "He went out of his way on your name day tourney to crown you. You will always be your father's Queen of Love and Beauty. Don't forget that."

She witnessed again how her mother broke even though she had just been so strong. The hand that had rested on her cheek now returned to her mother's own face as she tried to wipe her tears in a move of perseverance.

"It was you that brought us together."

Her mother, Helaena of Estermont, was _strong_. Wasn't she? She was silent -mostly, and she was the grace of life embodied, but she carried all of them and raised them; protected them, from things Cleora had yet to understand why she needed protection from. But now her strength had been fractured, and it was up to Cleora to be the strong one. _I will carry you now, Mama._

They locked into a tight embrace in each other's arms, and Cleora finally felt her own tears return back into her eyes - _I am strong, now. Father would want me to be strong. For you, Mama._

Her mother left her only with a tight squeeze to her shoulder. Cleora's eyes danced further onto the shoreline, and as her vision resumed to something that was not their before she sighed in deeply to brace herself for what she knew she had to do -what, deep down, she _wanted_ to do. Robb's figure was easily recognisable since it was followed by his grey direwolf and she watched him sit in the last lights of day by the rocks hovering over the sea -probably contemplating why he was here or whether she was worth the trouble.

Before long she, too, was at that same shoreline, walking and creeping upon the same rocks her betrothed found caution on until she reached the back of Robb Stark's dark auburn head.

"Can I sit here?" The tide must have been too hypnotising to him since he looked genuinely surprised to see her there -or see her addressing him so directly since everything had happened.

"Of course." He lightly dusted one of the rocks next to him and Cleora held back a secret smile from appearing. _Typical._

They sat in silence for a while as they both readjusted to being in each other's company -and _alone_ for that matter. _We'll get there._ Her mother's words had to have some truth in them, didn't they?

"I'm...sorry. I've been awful."

"You don't nee-"

"I want to. Let me."

Robb turned to her with his chin on his shoulder and smiled whilst looking at her pointedly.

"Is that how it's going to be?" There was a small glimpse of him, truly becoming his own person, there somewhere. She could see it in the way his blue eyes glimmered slightly in the face of her half-decent shot at atonement; this was the young man that made her heart beat out of her chest when they rode out together against the harsh northern winds.

They hadn't known each other for long but Cleora felt like Robb understood her -not _everything_ , of course, but he _knew_ her when he looked at her. She wasn't a high princess waiting for some lord to tame her; she wanted to laugh and dance, and when they laughed and danced _together_ he smiled at her like it was the first time he was really doing those things too.

"It depends, are you always going to be so damned honourable all the time?"

"Maybe."

She shrugged her shoulders to bump against his, and soon enough Grey Wind had come to settle in between the pair -obviously in some sort of concern over his master's well being. They sat there in strange content for a while, and in complete silence Cleora recalled something the young man had admitted to back when they were still shy children playing a game of flirtations at Winterfell.

"Robb." She called into the still wind.

"Yes?"

"You've never gone swimming before, have you?"

What followed made Cleora hope there was no one looking out of their own windows unto the 'best view of Storm's End', for they would surely think her a poor princess. Then again, she hardly cared anymore as she dove into the water and pricked her intended's legs from beneath him trying to scare him.

* * *

 **Steffon: The Stag**

The return to the capital was not an easy one in any way, but it was softened by their companions for the journey -it was namely his uncle Renly that had been the greatest comforter to him. His cousin, Shireen, had tried too, and though he found her always sweeter than his own sister Steffon could not shake the unease he felt over the entire situation.

In truth, Shireen had always been like a sister to him -it was essentially what she was before anyone ever spoke of their betrothal. It was strange for him to think that they shared an uncle; they shared _blood_ , they dwelled within a family of their own and had yet to make one together someday. But his parents had been cousins, too, and he knew they loved each other. If he ever doubted it with what little he knew of love, there was no doubting it when he was forced to bear witness to her at his death bed. He was bloodied -pierced by a boar and left pouring out like a flagon of wine with a hole in it, and yet his father still had the strength to look upon his mother like he owed her the world; like there was so much still left to give.

But most of Steffon's unease stemmed not from the fact that he was due to marry or _who_ he was due to marry; it was the fact that it would be preceded by a coronation. Far away as it was now it was still far sooner than he ever thought it would be.

He was still Steffon, the prince of Dragonstone, but all too soon he would be King of the Seven Kingdoms. He had known it was coming all his life, _The crown prince belongs to the people, don't forget that._ His mother used to tell him all the time when he was a boy, and he was glad to belong to them -he was _honoured_ to belong to them. But who would he belong to when he was King? Who would hold him accountable once the Septon blessed him and he was crowned? He would be an entirely different person within seconds, and he would have to start anew.

Steffon sat in the midst of the newly restored small council meeting with his mind completely elsewhere. The meeting in its entirety was a formality in general to introduce his uncle as the crown's hand, and the perusal both his mother and himself were being put under by the council's looks were not something he exactly wanted to indulge in. In some ways, it made him glad that it was his uncle who was there to work on their behalf -he always knew what was best even when his own father didn't. His uncle was humourless, yes, but that wasn't about to mean that the prince was not grateful for him being there even though Steffon would miss having Lord Arryn in their midst; for he was almost a grandfather to him. Steffon had no others he could ever boast.

"Now that we're all settled i'd like to have a more private word with the crown prince and the queen regent, my lords." Came from his uncle, and upon that note the remaining lords bowed out and away of the chamber whilst Ser Barristan gave his assurance that he'd be standing outside.

He turned and looked at his uncle sharing a cautious look with his mother, who sat at the head of the table with him to her left and his uncle Stannis to her right.

"Is there something wrong, uncle?" Steffon questioned, trying to conceal the worry he had of the unexpected. _What did the room need to be cleared for?_

"There is the matter of your training that we must discuss, my prince." His uncle now faced him completely, watching Steffon intently as he shuffled about in discomfort at the confusing subject.

"Training? What training?" Steffon spun his head fully to his mother, who was looking at her own clasped hands on the table, "Mother?"

"I think what your uncle is _trying_ to say," She gave his uncle and new hand a pointed look as she emphasised the words before looking back at him to continue in her soothing voice, "is that there is still much to learn. You're to be King, Steff, and that is a harsher truth than it ever was before."

He knew he was a little bookish and not as strong as his father was -but he always thought he'd have more than enough time to remedy that. Steffon thought that he'd have time to see the world, to be an expert at archery before moving on to swordplay, learn all about the Seven Kingdoms from the soil of the earth itself -but that could never be. True, he had three years, but he would be under scrutiny and living in a constant dress rehearsal the entire time. He was unworthy, still, he was no man to wear his father's crown or carry his hammer. _What wars have I fought to win this crown? What have I ever earned?_

His uncle began again to make sure Steffon understood their full meaning without his mother's cushioning words.

"Before ascending you must grow more adept at the martial arts. I understand you're getting quite good with archery but the people need a king they can trust with a sword -a king they know can protect them. You understand that men can not march off to war if their King can not march with them, yes?" _War? What war is left to be fought?_

"But...I just don't see why this is so pressing. Can't I just continue what i'm already doing?" His answer came too soon for his liking -as if it was expected for the question to be asked in the first place.

"No. No you can't, Steffon."

 _Can't I just ride with Jaren and continue helping Amaya how to play civasse? Can't I take my walks with Shireen and read to her after dinner? Or does that make me unworthy, still?_

"I agree with Stannis. There is...less time than I would have liked for you." His mother chimed in, albeit a little more solemnly than she'd been before. It wasn't as if she and his uncle were ever truly on opposite ends or had truly differing opinions, he was just shocked to see them so readily in agreement.

"Your father was a warrior, my prince. He won his crown on the battlefield -the people and the Kingdoms need to see their King excel as his father did."

A terrible heat suddenly rushed to Steffon's head and he felt his eyes begin to redden from the pressure. He did not need to be reminded of who is father _was_ and what kind of a man he himself could never be.

"I'm not good enough!" He didn't know where that came from -if he got nothing else from his father then that was the only thing he had of him, his sudden temper. _I will never be good enough. "Be a better King than I was." only a moon has passed and I am disappointing you already, father._

He moved to push out of his seat drastically, but was caught off guard by his mother's hand settling upon his forcefully. It was the only thing that calmed his sudden outburst into a regretful simmer of emotions. He looked to her pleadingly, in need of comfort -in need of wisdom, in need of _some_ kind of reassurance that it was all going to work out fine.

"You have _time_ , Steff. Three years, to get used to the council and train. You have Ser Barristan, you have your uncles, you have Lord Arryn and the Vale if you so wish. We can even hire a foreign trainer if that's what you want." She looked deep into his darkened blue eyes intently, and in her own eyes Steffon couldn't find anything that lacked sincerity. He never could.

"Anyone you want Steffon, you have time. Anyone you want will gladly serve you." She repeated like a calming hymn as the raging colour faded from his face and he slacked further into his seat to truly consider what was being suggested.

 _It's not really a suggestion, though. Nor is it a request. It's an order -I just get to choose the variables. It's better this way, i've never had much to choose from. I don't know how i'd handle having so many choices, anyway._

He remembered a man he saw always in his youth, a man with golden hair and a deadly sword hand. A man who trained alongside the White Bull and the Sword of the Morning, the deadliest knights the Kingdoms had ever seen. He was his mother's friend, too, he remembered it well. The man he knew was a widowed father the last he heard, and even though he recalled him always as 'Mama's dear friend' he could barely recollect hearing his name from her anymore. She had a smile just for him, and Steffon would see that smile return to her now.

He smiled knowingly for the first time since his father died.

"Summon Lord Jaime Lannister to the Capital."

* * *

 ** Jaime: The Golden Knight**

I jumped off my horse onto the familiar ground, and clasped one arm around Wylan's shoulder as we stood at the foot of the main entrance to the Red Keep.

"Uncle Tyrion!" The steady grip I had on my son's shoulder turned into a grip of shit-smelling air as he raced off to embrace my brother standing on the first few steps before us. It was -amongst many other things, one of the reasons Wylan was so excited to come to King's Landing even when I was not.

 _"I can't wait to see King's Landing, father! Did you miss it?"_

 _"Some small parts of it, I suppose." The biggest part -the very heart of it, was something I am still unsure to see._

 _"If you don't like it then why are we going back?"_

 _"I already told you...the crown prince has summoned us. I'm to help him -and so shall you."_

"Ah! Each day your grow more and more! I'd tell you to stop growing else -but that's more my speed." Tyrion ruffled his nephew's mess of dun blonde hair and I moved close enough to do the same to to my brother.

"Father couldn't make it to the reception?" I looked around sparingly at the ground surrounding us -I hadn't expected as much, but I thought Lord Tywin Lannister would at least welcome his much awaited grandson personally to King's Landing.

But father could always hold a grudge -and if it were not helpful for him to hold one he was surely by now an expert at making his disdain known. After receiving my summons I felt some confliction over whether I could even return to the city and see what drove me out of it again -but one letter from my father ordering me to stay put at Casterly Rock was enough to banish all my doubts away, so I came.

"Oh you know he's not one for reunions. However, I hope his replacements will not disappoint..." _Replacements?_

I followed Tyrion's moving line of vision farther up the stairs on to the first clearing and made out two figures standing tall and proud -and by their colours and colouring I realised that the two figures were the two children I once knew, one of them now betrothed and the other about to become a king.

Not many could boast that their reception was being had by the princess and crown prince themselves -but then again, not many had carried the Queen to her birthing bed when they had been born just as I had, either.

As I approached them and climbed further up the stairs with a hesitation I had never known until that one day I had to walk down them at Lannisport and away from everything I knew for so many years I took in the excitement brushing through their feet as they fidgeted nervously awaiting... _me_. They were awaiting me.

"Unc-...Ser Jaime!" The princess jumped straight into my arms betraying all signs of propriety -just as she had when she was a child. She would often run to me the same way and I'd wrestle her over my shoulder. She used to grab my hair and say that she would lead me around by the mane -I made sure to remind her that lions were not _led_.

As I let go of the young girl in my arms I stepped back slightly with my hands still hovering around her but not quite touching in order to better take her in and drink up all the changes. Whenever my mind wandered dangerously over them I imagined her still a young girl with wild black hair and her first fallen tooth. But the girl that stood before was a _woman_ , an image of her mother even with her father's darker hair. She smiled like her, too, wide and free. _Just like Helaena._

"Princess Cleora." I bowed down graciously, and when I returned back up now holding her small hands in mine she looked at me like she was reading a book she had read before and was trying to get to the best part.

"Wow...it's like...it's like you haven't changed. You're just as I remember you!" _This old lion? I am a father now. Wylan has given me much to grow grey over._

I brought my hand up with hers to plant a simple kiss on it and smiled lightly remembering something I once said,

"I told your mother you'd grow into a great beauty. Thank you for not proving me wrong."

She laughed freely before I introduced Wylan to her and made my way over to bow down to Steffon -the perfect prince that Helaena had promised, but now his hair had grown lighter than I recall it being and he carried yet another reminder of his mother who was not there.

"My prince." As soon as I regained my standing the young man embraced me -thankfully not in the way his sister just had, but it was a sort of testament, if one could say, that they had not forgotten. And if _they_ had not forgotten...then maybe _she_ had remembered.

"I-I'm sorry to take you away from Casterly Rock, Ser Jaime. I couldn't think of anyone else I wanted to do this with." It was strange to hear the boy speak -the future King sounded little like what I remembered of his father. Ironically, Robert's son reminded me so much of the man that Robert made his mission to kill -the man he hated more than any other thing living or dead, Rhaegar Targaryen.

"I'm honoured, always, my prince."

Like a never ending stream of surprises, the higher clearing of the stairs held another figure at the top, and as the ethereal being descended down the white steps almost like a ghost I realised from the long, flowing chestnut and still torn skirt, that it was the queen regent

The last time I saw her her tears were unshed as she bid me farewell. The last time I saw her I claimed i'd have her for myself once the husband she was obviously now grieving for was gone. Does she... _blame_ me?

 _"Maybe...maybe one day. When that man finally drinks himself to an early grave, maybe then you could be mine for all the world to see." I rolled off my tongue with the image clear in my mind; it would kill her if it was at my hand, but maybe when the Gods finally took that man, a man who was never worthy of anything no less the sun and stars, then she could be free. Then we could be free together._

 _"Yes, maybe." Hope. Dulled, broken, its odds out of my favour, but it was hope._

 _I'm not sorry, i'm not sorry for what I said._

When she was finally a step away from me it felt like everything else had dissipated -just like it felt before, like we were the only ones there standing in the mild breeze. I often wondered what it would be like to see her again after all that had transpired between us and in the time within our separation. _Separation. That is what it felt like all these years._ Nearly the entire journey here I mulled over, time and time again, around whether the summons was made with her _despite_ her or _because_ of her. I wasn't even sure if I _wanted_ to be here, standing before a beautiful woman I have loved for almost fifteen years with uncertainty -so how could I know what it was that _she_ wanted?

"My Queen." I bowed lowly to fill the empty space, the still air, that hovered heavy.

When I resumed to bring my head back over water her expressionless face had morphed into a something of an unsure smirk that made her look just as she did ten years ago whenever she drawled her sardonic gossip out to me in the gardens.

"Is it _Ser_ or _Lord_ now?" _Is that all that troubles you, your grace?_

I smiled and clasped my hands together behind my back and extended a smile I hoped she'd remember as well.

"Jaime is fine."

"Jaime." She repeated almost like she was testing it out afraid it was too heavy for her tongue.

She had not dulled even when I had seen her eyes break as I left. Even after all these years, she is a candle that will not be blown out.

"That's your son, I presume." She said pointing at Wylan who stood hesitantly at a distance with Tyrion and the crown prince smiling by his side.

"Yes, Wylan! Come here."

I pushed him slightly forward once he shuffled to where we were stood and introduced him promptly awaiting her careful examination.

"Your grace, my son Wylan."

Her smile widened into a toothy grin as she braced her hands on both his shoulders once his clumsy bow came to an end.

"Why what a charming young man you are! Your uncle tells me you're just as good as your father with a sword." She bent down to his level in order to face him. I could only blame Wylan's limited interaction with beautiful women and such attention on the blush creeping into his cheeks.

"Not quite, your grace."

"Humility...a rare trait for Lannisters. Well, the prince and I agree that we'd like you to join in with his training. You could do that, can't you?" _What an entourage we've accumulated for the prince Steffon's training. I hear the Stark boy will be joining us, too._

"I'd be honoured, your grace. Thank you."

"It's our pleasure. Now you best go with your uncle, I hear your grandfather's waiting for you." _Yes...his grandfather is waiting, though whether or not its pleasant is entirely up to him._

Wylan left with Tyrion as the prince and princess followed -albeit in a far slower pursuit, and we were left alone battling the silence, and losing.

"He's your exact portrait. Your hair, your eyes, everything."

It was true -Wylan inherited the green eyes and blonde hair that painted me, almost like his mother had never existed. But he was nothing like me. He was not smug and ambitious. He did not have a father that filled his head with what it meant to be great - _what it meant to be a Lannister._

It was time to point out the other obvious similarity, and so I gestured my chin up to point to the direction the prince and princess walked off to.

"She has your free spirit." _And your eyes. She does not smile like you, though, she smiles with far less restraint._ But I left that part out for good measure -we were still far from solid ground.

"Don't say that...I worry where it will get her." She rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms, making to walk away as her gown lightly traced behind her.

Her spirit had gotten her only to where my pride had gotten me. A widow trying to do the best I could for a son who had no mother. I wanted to prove myself -prove my happiness, and caught in the crossfire were my dead wife and the babe she had birthed.

"Welcome back, Jaime."

I was left standing on my own on steps with only a wisp of her voice to remember her by -it was not so different from the last time only in that case it was I that left her. It was technically still limbo; I was neither here nor there, could I turn back now? I left because I could not stand to see her anymore, curled into the arms of someone else, heartbroken and yet still somewhat happy with her family, did I want to stand in the midst of all that bitter and angry that I was not a part of it once more?

With a sharp draw of breath I took my first steps up the stairs. _You are not allowed to regret this._

Although, regret over coming to King's Landing couldn't help but stir up once I was faced with my father after my clear disobedience to his letter. We quarreled in a dimly lit archway, and when I made to exit the increasingly boring situation and find my son my own father wrapped his ailing hands around my arm and held me in my place -something he hadn't done since I myself was a child.

"I will _not_ see King's Landing tear you from the duty you have for your family once more."

"Then close your eyes."

I knew what he wanted and what he feared. More than anything, more than all of our safety, he feared our failure -the failure of our house. His daughter had failed to give him an heir to her husband's house, his youngest son was what he saw as as monster, and his eldest son and heir disappointed him time and time again, refusing to remarry and have more children to swap, trade and use as collateral. But I cared not any further than this -I couldn't refuse her. I couldn't refuse her son. I could fail all others, but not her.

I had failed my lady wife though -taken her from her home, promised to protect and love her, and yet she died at Casterly Rock unloved by me. _Oathbreaker, oathbreaker, oathbreaker. Man without honour._ I left Helaena behind thinking she could _truly_ be in the past.

I thought it'd be like it was with loving Cersei -I used to think there was always Cersei, _only_ Cersei, and then there was Helaena. Only Helaena. Suffocated, drenched, and waterboarded in Helaena. Helaena's smile, her eyes -sad and happy, how different she was. Cersei became almost like a nagging memory I'd have to remind myself about in the spirit of loyalty -but she was no longer the sun. And so my dead affection for my sister left me hopeful when I left Helaena that perhaps I could be suffocated by something else. I tried, truly -I stayed only in Casterly Rock with my beautiful blonde wife and bathed in her young maidenly love, but when she slept at night I would turn away from her shamefully imagining that the hair prickling the pillow was chestnut and not blonde.

 _"You're so beautiful." She said, stroking my naked chest kissed by the deep cover of the late night._

 _"Are you objectifying me, your grace?" Her hand stilled upon my chest, and her head straightened up where it lay on my chest as he head creased in sudden thought._

 _"I just...I remember seeing you for the first time and thinking 'i've never seen anyone like this man'. You looked like a King, and yet you looked so sad."_

 _"Do you want to know what I thought when I first looked at you?" I began stroking her hair gently, the way I knew only she would tolerate from me, and her head came further up and closer to where my lips begged to speak._

 _"Go on. Tell me."_

 _"I thought that you looked too sad to be a bride." She raised an eyebrow at that and picked her head up further,_

 _"You didn't think me beautiful at the time?" I didn't -I could only compare her to someone else. But she struck me in different ways -different than the way she struck me now as she lies naked against my side._

 _"Completely plain." She moved up over me, straddling my sides and pinning my hands into the pillow beneath my head._

 _"And now?" She could always be cunning when she pleased -and I liked to think it was only for me._

 _"Now there is no one else. Not the ladies at court, not the lords, not the damned Maesters, only you."_

We had hurt each other. It was a game to us, who gave chase and who gave in, and we would take turns whenever it suited us. We treated each other like dirt, we hated each other, even, but I loved her so completely the entire time. Even when she betrayed me in ways I knew she didn't mean to -I loved her with the very little in me I had left. It was that little, that will to love her against all odds, that made it much, much more. She was everything, _worth_ everything -the wind that blows on our skin, and she wore black for her husband's passing. Helaena, my lady love, was a widow in grieving. _I have to remember._

On the first day Prince Steffon's training would commence, the crown prince and his younger brother Jaren, who had come to observe, walked into the training pen covered in strapped armor. _Who does the boy think he's fighting today?_

 _"_ You can take that armour off, my prince." Prince Steffon look around in befuddlement, like I was the green boy waiting to be trained here.

"But, aren't we fighting?" I laughed easily as I clasped a hand on his shoulder -surprised at the firmness I didn't expect to find.

"Let's start in steps. The armour will only slow you down."

We were prepared to begin once the Stark boy arrived, but it seems our day would have further interruptions at the continual arrival of guests. _I daresay the training pen has never been so popular or crowded before._

The Queen Regent walked to us in a dress of dark blue with a tall, dusty blonde, man? ...woman? I'm not quite sure. Whatever it was it had a sour face and awkwardly towering build -and a sword awaiting to be fought with.

 _Who was this...ugly wench?_

Helaena answered my unsaid question accordingly.

"Lord Jaime, meet Lady Brienne, my sworn sword."

The _lady_ bowed -not curtsied, _bowed,_ shallowly to me as I continued to eye her in more upset that no one else found the creature before us at all unusual with the exception of Wylan.

"My Lord." _Ah, so you are a lady after all._

"My...lady." Helaena looked to me pointedly at my barely concealed mockery, and I swore to myself a moment i'd try to behave better.

But I was starting to think that perhaps the queen regent did not _want_ me to be on my best behaviour due to her later provocation. At least, it _felt_ like a provocation.

"Brienne will be helping you train the crown prince." _Did you ask me here just to insult me?_

I scoffed loud enough for the peasants in Fleabottom to hear me.

"I know i've been away a long time, your grace, but I assure you i'm fine training Steffon on my own."

With a sly smile in return and hidden intentions under her cover the queen began subtly circling me like a lion honing in on his prey. _I thought I was supposed to be the lion here._

"I don't doubt it, Lord Jaime. But let me see, you'll train and tip Steffon, and then he'll practice and demonstrate with either Robb or Wylan, yes?"

"That's usually how it goes, your grace." _What are you getting at? I'm starting to recall why we fought so often._

"And who is left for _you_ to demonstrate with?" _Aha. I see. And you think this beast is some sort of match for me?_

"There are many men in the training pen, your grace, I wouldn't want you to be without your sworn sword, my queen."

"Nonsense," She waved her hand up in dismissal, "Brienne will help keep you sharp. And if it is me you worry about then I shall stay here and watch." The queen settled herself by the fence of the ring, and as she leaned her head to one side she almost looked like a young maiden star struck by a gallant knight in the midst of his fight. If I didn't know better i'd think she was admiring me.

She must have known seeing her stand there was starting to get to my head -she made sure to expel any thoughts like that by feigning her concern.

"Are you afraid you've lost your touch, Lord Jaime?" I barked out in laughter and leaned over the other side of the fence she was on.

"The only thing I fear is wounding your guard enough for her not to perform her duties well. But since you've forgone that right I shall forego my caution."

I moved back into the pen and unsheathed my sword, patiently waiting some sort of an opponent.

"By all means, my Lord, do not be cautious." Said the _lady_ before approaching the ring and unsheathing his own sword to the day.

The amount of alarm that swept through my mind as I fought the unabashed lady -who was taller than even I might I add, was something I hadn't been used to training the same two dozen guards in Casterly Rock over the years. Her stance was all defence when we began, and yet with the first strike from me she came at me over and over again with a staggering strength -the only thing that kept me from losing in front of everyone else was when the prince called the entire thing off as he stated the daylight would son perish by the time we were done clashing horns.

And so we spent the remained of the day swinging swords and exchanging quips -all to the sound of the queen's laughter and chuckles of the young boys bearing witness to it. It was not the worst day to have -or the worst day to want to have for the foreseeable future.

That night after all the dirt, sweat and grime was washed off we attended the first feast to be had with the queen regent at its helm. The entire hall bent the knee as the lady I knew had a laugh of honey rolled down the throne room and thanked the lords in attendance for their loyalty when she sat on the throne that her husband left for her.

We are widows now, us both. Finally equals. And now she sits on a throne of iron, before her a king I dreamt of stabbing in the back -and before him a king I did stab in the back. I bowed down lowly to her -here I make an oath I will keep, in hand and heart.

 _I do not know what it means to love you still, only that if I could not stop it by now I could not stop it until the Others take us all. I vow to serve, I vow to love, I vow to wait._

* * *

 **Epilogue will be posted later on tonight.**

 **Review, review, review!**


	20. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

It's not all that funny how things work out in the end. I seem to miss out on the Gods' humour when they take and take just to give -even one if splendidly happy at the end of it all. Us mortals don't forget what we lose along the way. Or at least I haven't. I'll never forget. That was perhaps my greatest lesson to learn.

All those years, all those nights I cursed the name Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen as I blamed Robert for holding her in his heart whilst he mistreated me -he couldn't forget, either. And on the day our son was crowned as King to the Seven Kingdoms, The Andals, The First Men and the Rhoynar, I held Robert in my heart. _I haven't forgotten you_.

Steffon, my quiet little Steffon, was quiet still but so like his father when I looked at him now. That was the greatest irony -with Jaime Lannister's help Robert's son became more like him.

I recall that entire week well -it was the most splendid week I had ever lived through, and I kept my latest late husband in mind the entire time. Once Steffon was coronated his wedding followed the next day and then Cleora and Robb's the day after. Jaren was a growing man, now joining Wylan and Jaime when they trained, and Amaya was Steffon's favourite little princess.

They were all growing -all the children I had known and lived with when they were babes, they were _becoming._ Shireen, now my good-daughter, and Deemah -who I think I spent more time with than her own mother, was already the picture of her father; strong, still and incredibly fond of hawking.

So much had happened, so many of the same rooms saw so much occur within them, over the time of my official regency. The halls saw me quarrel with my children, watched me discuss stately matters with Stannis, saw me circle around Jaime like a careful crow unsure whether it was enjoying its feast or not -and they saw me love him, still, through it all and in my silence. I was the queen regent, yes, and my son's reign would be just as delicate, if not more, than his father's considering the circumstances -I could not allow any risk to brush upon it or for anyone to question it. I had to do what was right by my son, by my _children_.

The week concluding Steffon's coronation and wedding put Jaime and I once more in a state of uncertainty. He had done his duty -he had fulfilled it to the highest expectations, but what was left to be discussed was what would happen _now._ Would he leave and go back to Casterly Rock where his father surely thought he belonged? Or would I ask him to stay? What justification should I have to make him stay?

The day after I waved good bye to my firstborn daughter as she departed for Highgarden with her new husband and good-sister -for her aforementioned good-sister's wedding to Lord Willas Tyrell before heading to Winterfell, I sat in my gardens suddenly alone with only the recollection of what I had in the walls of these shrubs.

Years ago, I'd sit here happily drenched in the laughter of the children around me. I created a sort of haven away from the treachery and deception that flooded in the city within the purity of the heart's of children -even Shireen and Deemah, who, now that I felt the loss of my own daughter, I knew I loved like they were my own. I raised them -didn't I? They came to me when it mattered, and I cared for them just like I did with Renly. He was a child I lost, too, off to Highgarden for the wedding procession -but I knew better what motivated him to go to Highgarden. Could I blame him, though? Loras Tyrell and his honey hair and eyes -a skilled and passionate knight, he was so young, so beautiful. Who was I to judge Renly on where his affections lay when I had fallen for the same thing when I was just as young as him?

I knew what it was to love someone bold and beautiful -and love them _still_. I never learned how to stop, only how to distract myself from the thought. But he would come to me at night, in my dreams, no matter how hard I had tried to avoid it or how long I spent not thinking about him, he would always return and be mine.

Even though he wasn't really mine, he's doesn't really belong to anyone -he never has. And that is what scares me the most.

True to the laughable fate the Gods above always seemed to resign me to, Jaime strolled into the small oasis I had been in deep thought in and approached me easily to join me on the bench. It almost felt like we were as we were all those years ago -with the exception of his visits to my room, of course. I feel like I am only starting to realise that what we had was more than what I thought it was.

"Reminiscing?" He asked me smoothly, and I answered with only a touch of humour to my voice. I was sad. _Mostly_ sad.

"It feels awfully lonely here now that they're all grown up."

"Arguably." He shook his head slightly -true, they were not all responsible adults as of yet. But they were a vast difference to the children that sat on my lap and chewed up my skirts.

"Do you remember how we used to have all of them here? In one little circle? Crawling to another bench was considered too far for me. And now...now I can't hold all of them in one embrace if I wanted to."

"I don't recall you being this sentimental." I felt his hand rub against my back soothingly, and I couldn't find myself shifting away. This is what it was like before...he was my greatest comfort.

I pushed the tears that were spilling away and tapped his other hand resting on his thigh lightly in thanks.

"Yes, well, you're lucky to have a son in the sense that he'll always be with you, at Casterly Rock or wherever you are. Daughters are meant to marry and leave."

He leaned back at my comment as his hand fell from my back, and looked away.

"So i'm to return to the Rock, then?" His head was cast down, barely squinting as he hung there, and I reached over to him trying to correct the terrible slip. If anything, it was his word that I awaited for what would happen or where he'd go. _Do you want to go, knowing i'd miss you? You must know by now._

"I didn't mean to...I just meant that you are welcome here for however long. I know that your father's not too happy that you're away from home so I don't want you to think that you're... _bound._ " No matter how much i'd miss him and his easy smile -the smile just for me, I didn't want him to have to relive what was obviously too painful for him the first time around. He found a way out of it then -so surely he should know there's a way out of it now.

"No...no he's not terribly happy about it I must say. And in truth Wylan has missed Casterly Rock even with King's Landing being so exciting for him. But there's one thing here...you might say, that _binds_ me."

"Jaime." I tried to warn. What he might say could not be taken back. And I didn't trust myself to give him the right answer. I was far from right. I didn't know _what_ was right.

I watched with my voice caught in my throat as he bent the knee before me and took the hand that lay limp in my lap -I was paralyzed by his touch. I had not felt it in so, so long.

"I tried to wait, I tried to resist. But i've never wanted anything enough to resist it before." They were the same words I uttered out in a near maddened state all those years ago at Storm's End.

I said them once as my lips tried to graze his, I was beseeching him to give me something I never knew I needed to feel and that night I like to think that both of us surrendered into our sealed fates. That first night and all the nights that came after it felt like he was always meant for me the moment that I had him. Like, every time he kissed my chest or I wrapped my hands around his neck that that was the exact moment and place everything was meant to be. After all these years, that was what I had forgotten even when I knew my love for him did not -the _feeling_ of completeness and serenity despite the storm he conjured up in me.

I could not hear him breathing erratically whilst his eyes were trained on mine -I was too busy feeling what I had felt the first time we came together, the first time either one of us had to make a decision.

"Will you marry me, Helaena? Does your heart still-"

"Yes. Yes it does."

I never had a choice, I could never choose, not with him. It was not a question; it was my destiny. I loved him more than my heart should be able to, and I wanted to end my days in the sun with him by my side. He was always at my side, always.

* * *

We married in a small ceremony the following year and returned to Casterly Rock with Amaya in tow. We found a peaceful life there save for Jaime and Brienne's clashes in the training yard and bickering at the dinner hall -i'm afraid Jaime was far too witty for someone as serious as Brienne. Jaren came to visit me often, and if I could dare say it myself he seemed to become a greater warrior than his elder brother -he certainly didn't have to try as hard. _All my children, in my arms and in my thoughts, I never thought we'd be this happy again._ Four times a mother, thrice married, twice a widow, and still only one great love. That will never change -it'll only grow.

One part of it _did_ change, though. We had one daughter together, a perfect little girl with blonde hair and opal blue eyes. Elenei, we named her, after the daughter of a sea god whose love tore through an entire kingdom, and whenever I saw the love Jaime held in his eyes when he held our daughter in his arms I questioned less and less what would have happened had I kept the previous chance we had at being joint parents.

The years passed and ample news reached my ears out on the shores of Casterly Rock. Arya Stark, the little mischievous imp I remember teasing the boys in Winterfell, married her Winterfell playmate Trystane Martell after a long time at Dorne and traveling around to Norvos and the Free Cities with them -it would seem this little wolf thirsted for adventure and went to the right place to find it. The Rose of Highgarden Margeary Tyrell, once an oft repeated name for the hand of Steffon, had married Lord Edmure Tully who was now Lord Paramount of the Trident, and at that wedding I was reunited with my daughter and her new Stark family -and seen fit to rob them of their son, Bran, who was more than intent on squiring at King's Landing. I saw the glimmer of duty and glory -an unstoppable combination, in the boy long before I met him again at Riverrun, and so the news of him being raised to Steffon's Kingsguard did not surprise me in the least.

Amaya was promised to Jon Arryn's son the year after my own wedding. But, as always it would seem, daughters of Helaena Estermont did what their mother was apparently never brave enough of doing -they would not submit to their betrothals so easily. I watched with my own eyes the shy looks and silenced affections be exchanged with Wylan, now her step brother, and I did my best to ignore it even though I knew the look of loving a Lannister all too well. I ignored and turned a blind eye until I could not anymore -it was plain as day, and they were growing...kissing in the caves and whispering vows of love and loyalty to one another.

 _"Is it even...right, Jaime?" I asked as we lay in bed together during a day too perfect for either of us to know. They are technically brother and sister, did the Gods think we had no shame for allowing it?_

 _"Could it really be up to us to say?" Who were we to judge?_

 _"We can't choose who we love."_

And so Deemah was given the pleasure of being Rob Arryn's intended. Neither I nor Jaime could stand in the way of Wylan and Amaya. I think the both of us saw what we could never be in them. _If we were free to choose, would we have chosen each other?_ I'd like to think we would have...eventually.

Renly never married, and it was clear that the kingdoms began to see why, and so he named Jaren as his heir to Storm's End -a title I made sure Jaren was worthy of. " _This was what your father was meant to be master of,"_ I said to him, " _and I know you will make him proud."_

A Lannister of Casterly Rock was now husband to the Queen Mother and step-father to the King, his son and heir was betrothed to the King's sister whilst his niece was Queen consort. I'm afraid to say that not even Tywin Lannister could have planned it better.

* * *

 **I can't believe it's all over! I'm actually pretty bummed that I won't have anything to write for this...I loved writing Helaena and honestly it was all you readers that made the experience worth while for me so thank you so much for deigning this worthy of your time!**

 **I appreciate you all! I'm open to any ideas you guys might be interested in reading so be sure to write that down or message me!**

 **Review, and tell me what you think and how the overall story made you feel, i'd love to know!**


	21. Question

**Hey guys! I'm sorry to say that this isn't an update.**

 **However, I've been thinking an awful lot about this story and i've been wondering whether I should do a sequel to it that would chronicle all the paths of the next generation. That said, I only think i'll do it if I see that enough (or any) readers want that since I do have other fics i'm working on.**

 **That said, please let me know whether I should do a sequel (if so, I suggest you put an author alert just in case) or whether I should leave the story as it is.**


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